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INDIAN    TALES 


BY 


FRANK  W.  CALKINS 


CHICAGO: 

L   A.   DONOHUE  &  CO. 

407-429  Dearborn  St. 


M.    A.     DONO'HUE    &    COMPANY 

PRINTERS     AND      BINDERS 
■A  O  7  -  -4  ?  9     DEARS  qBR  N     S  T  R  E  E.  ■*" 

OH  ICAGO 


RONTIER    SKETCHE; 


T>Jcs     ^    fK'c     kjg 


lJ 


*ts 


BY 


FRANK  W.  CALKINS 


CHICAGO: 
DONOHUE,  HENNEBERRY  &  CO 


Copyrighted,  1893 

BY 

DONOHUE,  HENNEBERRY  &  CO. 
All  Rights  Reserved. 

Frontier  Sketches. 


DONOHUE  ft  HENNEBERRY,  PRINTERS  AND  BINDERS,  CHICAGO. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

L    Old  Stumpy. 6 

II.    McLeod'a  Adventure 15 

III.  An  Exciting  Boat  Ride 23 

IV.  ARaceforLife «.M. 33 

V.    A  Bad  Medicine  Man 44 

VI.    Saved  by  a  *'  Jack" 60 

VII.    A  Woman's  Brave  Exploit 59 

VIII.    In  the  Sioux  Country  in '75 <J9 

IX.    Sequapah 80 

X.    Outjuggled 92 

XI.    The  Old  Judge's  Stoiy .,. 101 

XII.    Wapper-Jaw  John Ill 

XIII.  A  Desperate  Escape 121 

XIV.  Boyer's Stratagem •••  130 

XV.    HowHeGotlt ....*  140 


INDIAN  TALES, 


i. 

OLD  STUMPY. 


In  the  spring  of  the  year  1866,  the  writer's  family 
moved  westward  from  West  Bend,  Iowa  (a  small  set- 
tlement on  the  Des  Moines  river,  where  we  had  spent 
the  winter),  a  distance  of  forty  miles  across  a  wide,  bare 
stretch  of  prairie,  into  the  valley  of  the  Little  Sioux. 
Here  we  settled  upon  a  homestead,  having  to  go  eighty 
miles  to  the  nearest  land  office,  at  Sioux  City,  to  take 
out  the  necessary  papers. 

Our  nearest  neighbors,  with  the  exception  of  five 
families  who  had  accompanied  us,  were  fifteen  miles 
away. 

In  order  to  give  the  reader  some  idea  of  the  raw  new- 
ness of  the  country,  I  will  add  that  our  nearest  mark- 
eting points — Fort  Dodge  and  Sioux  City — were  each 
eighty  miles  away.  All  that  distance  we  had  to  go  in 
order  to  dispose  of  a  few  pounds  of  butter,  or  to  buy  a 
pound  of  sugar. 

To  build  a  house  of  lumber  was  not  to  be  thought  of, 
though  my  father  did  manage  to  get  a  quantity  of 
floorings,  sheetings  and  shingles  made  from  native  ash 
at  a  sawmill  twenty  miles  down  the  river.  From  these 
he  finished  a  comfortable  log  cabin,  into  which  we 
moved  upon  one  of  the  first  days  of  May. 

As  I  have  said,  our  nearest  neighbors  lived  fifteen 

5^ 


D  INDIAN    TALES. 

miles  away,  but  we  soon  discovered  several  of  a  nomadic 
sort,  who  made  their  appearance  periodically,  and 
lived  in  "  dug-outs  "  along  the  river.  These  were  old 
fellows  who  hunted  for  a  living,  and,  in  their  own 
dialect,  had  "  trapped  the  kentry  off'n  on  fer  years." 

One  evening,  just  after  we  were  fairly  settled  in  our 
new  cabin,  and  while  we  were  seated  at  supper,  there 
appeared  in  the  open  doorway  one  of  the  oddest-looking 
creatures  imaginable.  It  was  a  little  old  man,  with  a 
reddish-gray  beard  and  long,  thin  hair  of  the  same 
color ;  and  though  I  was  then  but  a  boy  ten  years  old,  I 
can  at  this  moment  shut  my  eyes  and  recall  the  image 
distinctly.  The  dumpy  figure  standing  for  a  moment, 
one  foot  upon  the  door-sill,  one  dirty  hand  resting  on 
the  casing,  the  greasy,  patched,  old  "  wammus,"  deer- 
skin pants  and  big  beaver  cap  are  still  vivid  in  my 
recollection. 

"Come in,"  said  my  father,. as  the  queer  old  fellow 
stood  hesitating  with  a  grin  upon  his  face.  "Come  in 
and  have  some  supper." 

"  I'm  obleeged  to  ye,  mister ;  don't  keer^'f  I  dew,"  and 
he  stumped  into  the  room,  half  falling  over  the  sill 
and  stumbled  across  the  floor  in  a  clumsy,  awkward 
fashion.  "  Got  no  feet,"  he  exclaimed,  "  'cep'nonly  a 
wooden  un  an'  a  stub. 

"  Ben  a-trapin'  round  here  some  this  spring,"  he  con- 
tinued, hitching  up  to  the  table.  "These  is  my 
grounds,  from  the  forks  down  here  to  the  head  of  the 
Stony.  Got  a  dug-out  up'n  the  High  bank  nigh  Kound 
Grove.  Got  'nother  up  on  the  Sioux  nigh  the  '  Lakes,' " 
— a  local  name,  still  used,  for  the  group  of  lakes  men- 
tioned above, — "an'  I've  got  a  nuther  out  on  Rock 
River,  an'  another  up'n   Minnesoter  on  the    Lacky 


INDIAN  TALES.  7 

Parle."  {Lao  Qui  Parle,  lake  which  speaks.)  "Change 
off,  ye  know1 ;  f er  when  faint  good  trappin'  on  one 
ground,  most  gen'ly  'tis  on  'nuther." 

Having  thus  oddly  introduced  himself,  he  began 
using  his  knife  and  fingers  upon  the  food  passed  to  him, 
eating  rapidly  vyhile  he  answerd  the  various  questions 
my  father  put  to  him.  He  sat  next  to  me  at  the  table, 
and  I  noted  that  his  clothes  were  woefully  greasy,  and 
had  a  smell  about  them  which  I  came  to  recognize  later 
on,  when  I  trapped  my  first  muskrat.  I  left  the  table 
before  I  had  finished  supper,  but  sat  in  the  doorway, 
where  I  could  watch  our  queer  guest  and  listen  to  what 
he  said. 

During  the  course  of  the  meal,  we  learned  that  his 
name  was  Charles  Weeks,  and  that  he  was  born  near 
the  shore  of  Lake  Champlain  in  New  York.  He  had 
come  West  in  '35,  and  had  trapped  in  northern  Iowa 
and  in  Minnesota  ever  since.  For  thirty  years,  in  fact, 
since  he  was  a  boy  of  nineteen,  this  man  had  wandered 
..over  and  lived  on  these  uncivilized  prairies,  and  the 
greater  part  of  the  time  he  had  lived  alone. 

After  supper  it  began  to  rain  gently,  and  my  father 
and  I  hastened  to  finish  the  remaining  "  chores." 

When  we  came  in,  dripping  from  the  rain  which 
meantime  had  begun  to  fall  more  rapidly,  the  old  trap- 
per was  still  sitting  by  the  fire,  for  even  though  an 
evening  in  May,  the  storm  was  a  cold  and  thoroughly 
disagreeable  one. 

"  Knowed  this  was  a-comin',"  said  the  trapper. 
"  Reckon  ye'll  hev  to  let  me  roll  in  on  yer  floor  hero 
fer  the  night.  I  could  'a'  huffed  it  home  to  my  dug- 
out ten  years  ago,  when  I  stud  on  two  feet,  'stid  of 


8  INDIAN   TALES. 

two  stumps,  an'  I'd  V  thought  nothin  of  sech  a  sprinkle 
es  this ;  but  them  days  is  gone  by." 

My  father  assured  him  that  he  was  welcome  to  stay, 
and  then  asked  if  he  would  tell  how  he  came  to  meet 
with  such  a  misfortune  as  the  losing  of  his  feet ;  and 
I  will  give  his  story  mainly  in  my  own  words,  rather 
than  in  his  backwoods  dialect. 

"Oh  yes,"  he  answered.  "It's  a  pityful  yarn, 
though,  and  I  don't  generally  like  to  say  much  about 
it.  It  happened  about  ten  years  ago  over  on  the  Des 
Moines.  I  was  staying  that  fall  with  a  gritty  chap 
that  moved  up  from  Fort  Dodge,  and  squatted  on  a 
piece  of  Des  Moines  bottom-land.  He  had  his  wife  with 
him,  and  a  baby  about  a  year  old,  I  reckon,  as  pretty 
and  as  slick,  too,  as  a  muskrat  kit. 

"  Symmons — that  was  the  man's  name — rhad  built 
him  a  log  shanty,  and  he  had  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  a 
cow,  and  had  broken  a  five-acre  lot  that  spring,  and 
tried  to  raise  some  potatoes  and  sod-corn;  but  he 
planted  too  late,  and  the  frost  killed  every  hill  of  them 
early  in  September. 

"  "Well,  at  that  time  I  had  a  dugout  not  far  from  where 
he'd  settled,  and  I  bad  some  flour  and  coffee,  and 
a  lot  of  traps  cached  near  by,  and  so  when  I  came  down 
from  a  summer's  hunt  up  in  Minnesota,  to  begin  my 
fall  trapping,  Symmons  wanted  me  to  go  as  a  partner 
with  him  for  a  season.  Seeing  he  was  so  hard  up,  and 
that  he  could  furnish  me  with  a,  decent  place  to  live  in 
and  a  cook,  I  concluded  I'd  go  in  with  him. 

"  You  see,  in  those  days,  and  now  too,  the  buyers 
came  around  late  every  fall  and  spring,  and  bought  all 
the  fur  the  trappers  had  taken  during  the  fur  seasons. 
So  we  decided  that  when  we  had  sold  our  furs  that 


INDIAN   TALES.  9 

fall,  I  was  to  take  Symmons'  oxen  and  wagon  and  make 
a  trip  down  to  the  Fort  for  a  winter's  supply  of  gro- 
ceries and  such  things. 

"  Well,  we  did  do  famously  for  a  couple  of  months. 
All  the  slews  were  unusually  full  of  rat  houses  built 
that  summer,  and  there  were  plenty  of  beaver  and 
mink  on  the  river  and  creeks. 

"  Everything  went  off  well  enough  with  us  until  one 
day  about  the  last  of  November.  Then  we  had  trouble 
enough,  and  it  came  quick  and  unexpected. 

"  A  lot  of  Sioux  had  sneaked  into  our  parts  unknown 
to  us,  and  one  night  they  lay  in  ambush  in  a  grove 
near  the  cabin,  and  as  it  happened  as  we  went  to  the 
cabin  Symmons  was  ahead  of  me,  he  got  all  their  bul- 
lets, and  I  got  none. 

"  Poor  fellow !  They  killed  him  the  first  fire,  for  he 
wasn't  expecting  anything  of  the  kind,  as  there  hadn't 
been  any  Indian  trouble  in  our  parts  for  over  two 
years,  and  so  he  was  carrying  his  pelts  along  without 
even  a  gun  with- him. 

"  I  had  mine,  though,  and  as  I  was  on  the  other  side 
of  the  river  from  them  all,  I  made  a  break  to  get  away. 
Then  the  Indians  rode  to  the  shanty  and  burned  it,  and 
drove  off  the  cattle. 

"  They  didn't  find  Symmons'  wife  at  home,  though, 
for  she  had  heard  the  firing,  and  had  run  off  with  her 
baby  and  hid  in  some  thick  willows  down  the  river.  It 
was  nearly  dark  when  they  got .  to  the  house,  or  I 
reckon  they  would  have  found  her  easily  enough,  for 
I  had  no  trouble  finding  her,  shivering  and.  crying  in 
the  brush  the  next  morning. 

"  You  may  be  sure  she  was  glad  to  see  me,  poor 
thing,  for  she  thought  we'd  both  been  shot ;  but  she 


10  INDIAN  TALES. 

and  the  baby  were  nearly  frozen,  for  it  was  very  cold 
in  the  night. 

"But  she  wouldn't  be  satisfied  to  go  away  with- 
out looking  after  Symmons,  until  I  told  her  I  had  found 
him  and  buried  him  in  a  sand-bar.  We  were  poorly 
equipped  for  cold  weather,  and  'specially  for  the  tramp 
between  us  and  where  her  folks  lived  at  Fort  Dodge. 

"  When  she  knew  what  we  must  do,  she  got  right  up 
with  her  little  one  and  said  she  was  ready  to  start. 
Well,  we  set  off  at  once,  down  the  river.  I  carried  the 
baby  and  she  carried  the  gun,  except  when  we  saw  any 
game,  and  then  I'd  try  to  get  a  shot,  and  I  did  kill  a 
duck  and  a  rabbit  before  noon,  and  made  a  fire  by 
firing  my  gun  into  a  mess  of  dry  leaves.  By  this  fire 
we  cooked  and  ate  them  both  for  dinner. 

"  When  we'd  got  through  our  meal,  and  had  got  upon 
high  land,  I  found  that  we  had  reached  a  point  where 
we  must  make  a  tremendous  circuit  round  the  west 
bend.  But  it  had  grown  warmer,  and  I  concluded  to 
risk  it,  knowing  that  we  could  make  it  before  night  if 
it  didn't  storm ;  for  the  woman  was  clean  grit  and  a 
good  traveler,  and  the  baby  seemed  to  feel  contented 
as  a  kitten  after  its  dinner  of  broiled  rabbit. 

"  Mis'  Symmons,  though,  couldn't  keep  from  crying 
all  the  time,  and  every  little  while  she'd  burst  out  afresh, 
and  I'd  say  something  to  try  and  keep  up  her  sperits, 
but  you  can  believe  that  I  didn't  feel  more  than  ordi- 
nary cheerful  myself  about  that  time. 

"  Wal,  we  hadn't  made  more  than  half  that  stretch 
of  prairie  before  I  saw  there  was  a  big  snow-storm 
brewing,  such  a  storm  as  I  reckon  they  never  get  any- 
where except  here  on  these  prairies."    (These  storms 


INDIAN  TALES.  11 

have  since  become  well-known  under  the  name  of  bliz- 
zards.) 

"That  made  me  uneasy  enough ;  for  I  knew  if  one 
struck  us  away  from  shelter,  we  shouldn't  stand  one 
chance  in  a  hundred  of  getting  through  alive.  But  the 
storm  did  strike  us,  and  we  did  pull  through.  The 
snow  came,  with  a  tremendous  northwest  wind,  when 
we  were  about  three  miles  out  from  the  river,  and  in 
five  minutes  you  couldn't  see  six  rods  from  the  end  of 
your  nose,  and  it  turned  cold  so  suddenly  it  seemed  like 
slapping  you  in  the  face  with  an  icy  blanket,  after  com- 
ing out  of  a  warm  room. 

"  Mis'  Symmons  happened  to  be  dressed  purty  warm 
with  a  flannel  dress  and  a  cloak  that  she  could  pull  over 
her  head;  she  hadn't  time  when  she  fled  from  the 
Indians  into  the  woods  to  get  her  bonnet,  and  the  baby 
hadn't  scarcely  any  clothes  on,  but  she  had  wrapped  it 
in  her  cloak  all  night. 

"  Well,  when  that  storm  -came,  I  made  up  my  mind 
there  wasn't  any  show  for  us,  but  I  thought  I'd  try  and 
save  the  baby.  So  I  jerked  off  the  fur  socks  that  I  wore 
inside  my  rawhide  c  packs,'  and  pulled  one  of  them  on 
over  each  of  the  baby's  legs,  and  tucked  its  arms  inside 
of  them,  too,  and  then  I  pulled  on  my  packs  and  put 
the  little  cretur  inside  my  coat,  next  my  bosom,  and  we 
hurried  on.  The  wind  was  in  our  backs,  and  that  was 
one  grand  thing,  and  I  knew  if  we  could  keep  on  for 
the  next  half -hour  we  could  make  the  timber  on  the 
river ;  for  all  we  had  to  do  to  get  our  direction  was  to 
point  straight  with  the  wind. 

"  I  made  Mis'  Symmons  hang  to  my  coat-tail,  and 
then  I  took  her  off  at  a  good  dog-trot,  with  the  wind 
helping  us  on, 


12  INDIAN   TALES. 

"  But  it  was  a  terrible  jaunt !  The  wind  blowed  har- 
der and  the  snow  grew  thicker  every  minute;  and  the 
cold  seemed  to  cut  clean  to  the  bone.  It  wasn't  five 
minutes  before  I  knew  my  feet  were  both  freezing.  Kb 
great  wonder,  you  see,  after  pulling  off  warm  fur  socks 
and  then  putting  my  cold  feet  back  into  them  frozen 
rawhides. 

"  But  I  hugged  that  baby  and  went  ahead  harder  and 
harder ;  and  that  plucky  Mis'  Symmons  she  hung  to  me 
and  kept  up,  and  finally  we  made  the  river,  and  got 
into  a  sheltered  place  behind  a  hill. 

"  It  wasn't  dark,  and  so  while  she  held  the  baby  and 
talked  down  a  path  in  the  snow,  I  got  together  a  pile 
of  dry  wood  and  made  a  fire.  Then  I  took  my  knife 
and  cut  a  big  heap  of  brush  and  made  a  kind  of  shelter 
over  the  fire  so  the  snow  wouldn't  sift  down  on  us,  and 
then  I  took  my  gun  and  went  along  the  bottom  of  the 
hill  and  shot  a  grouse  and  a  couple  of  rabbits,  and 
brought  them  in. 

"  By  that  time  we  had  a  first-rate  fire,  and  Mis'  Sym- 
mons had  got  down  by  it  and  examined  her  baby,  and 
had  found  it  wasn't  frozen  anywhere;  but,  poor  woman, 
she'd  begun  to  thaw  out  herself,  in  spots,  and  she  was 
suffering  terribly. 

"  As  for  me,  I  had  worked  all  the  time  like  a  beaver, 
and  I'd  kept  every  part  of  me  warm  but  my  feet.  They 
were  frozen  solid,  from  the  ankle  down,  and  felt  like  a 
couple  of  sticks. 

"  I  thawed  'em  out  in  snow  by  the  fire  ;  but  I  couldn't 
tell  you  what  I  suffered  that  night.  Mis'  Symmons 
wasn't  frozen  badly  anywhere,  just  her  toes  and  some 
frost-bit  spots  on  her  shoulders  and  hands.    Her  cloak 


INDIAN  TALES.  13 

had  saved  herjiead  and  ears,  and  my  big  beaver  cap, 
like  the  one  I  wear  now,  had  saved  mine. 

"  We  managed  to  cook  the  rabbits  and  eat  them, 
and  to  feed  the  baby,  which  didn't  make  any  fuss  at 
all,  but  went  to  sleep  in  its  mother's  arms. 

"  It  was  a  frightful  night ;  but  somehow  we  lived, 
all  of  us,  she  a-dozing  by  the  fire  and  holding  the 
sleeping  baby,  and  I  cutting  and  piling  sticks  upon 
the  fire. 

"Well,  the  next  forenoon,  about  the  middle,  it 
cleared  off.  We  had  cooked  and  eaten  the  grouse  for 
breakfast,  and  I'd  got  a  big  heap  of  dry  wood  round 
the  fire,  and  so  I  told  Mis'  Symmons  that  I  knew 
where  there  was  a '  dug-out,'  four  or  five  miles  below, 
and  if  she  thought  she  could  keep  herself  and  the  baby 
warm,  I'd  go  down  there  and  prospect. 

"  She  said  she  could,  and  wanted  me  to  go ;  so  I 
walked  off,  and  got  down  there  after  a  couple  of 
hours'  hard  wading,  expecting  to  find  the  dug-out 
empty,  and  not  fit  to  stay  in ;  and  wasn't  I  the  happiest 
man  to  find  two  trappers  that  I  knew  occupying  it, 
and  fixed  up  as  snug  as  you  please ! 

"  They  were  Bill  Goss  and  Jim  Freeman,  God  bless 
'em !  And  the  way  they  took  me  inside  and  put  me 
in  warm  blankets,  and  then  took  more  and  went  after 
that  woman  and  her  baby,  was  a  blessed  thing  to  see, 
I  tell  ye." 

The  old  trapper  drew  his  dirty  sleeve  across  his  eyes, 
and  every  other  eye  in  the  cabin  was  wet  with 
sympathy. 

"  Well,  they  took  us  in  and  nursed  us,"  continued  the 
old  man,  "  and  when  the  weather  became  clear,  Bill 
put  on  his  snow-shoes  and  went  down  to  the  fort  and 


14  INDIAN  TALES. 

got  her  folks  who  lived  there  to  come  up  after  her  with 
a  team  and  sled.  And  they  got  a  doctor,  too,  to  come 
up  to  see  me ;  for  my  feet  had  been  getting  awful 
bad. 

"  When  her  folks  came  they  took  her  home,  and  the 
next  spring  they  all  moved  back  to  Mississippi,  and  I 
never  saw  her  or  the  baby  again.  I  didn't  get  round 
again  for  a  good  while,  and  when  I  did,  I'd  lost  one 
foot  and  ten  toes,  and  I've  been  stumping  it  over  the 
prairies  ever  since ;  that's  why  they  call  me  '  Old 
Stumpy.'  Still,  I  don't  know  but  I'd  do  the  same 
thing  agin — pore  creturs  1 " 


n. 

McLEOD'S  ADVENTURE. 

Among  the  earliest  settlers  of  the  Wisconsin  valley 
were  "Bob"  and  "Bill"  McCleod,  known  to  later  settlers 
as  "The  McCloud  Brothers."  Long  before — the  date 
is  not  exactly  known — the  tide  of  emigration  began  to 
turn  northward  from  the  exhausted  mines  of  the"  Lead 
Kegion,"  Bob  and  Bill  had  built  their  log  cabin  on  the 
north  side  of  the  river,  and  settled  themselves— at  least 
for  a  time — under  a  picturesque  bluff,  in  what  is  now 
known  as  Eichland  county. 

They  were  hunters  and  trappers  of  true  backwoods 
origin,  and  belonged  to  that  rough  and  hardy  class  of 
men  who  have  for  more  than  a  century  led  the  van- 
guard of  our  civilization  into  the  wilderness.  They 
were  large,  fierce-looking  men,  who  usually  shunned 
neighbors,  and  had  little  to  say  to  those  whom  they  met. 

They  kept  up  an  inveterate  feud  with  the  "Winnebagoes 
and  Pottawatomies,  whose  hunting-grounds  encroached 
upon  what  they  were  pleased  to  call  their  own.  This 
feud  was  continued  long  after  the  treaties  of  peace 
which  settled  the  difficulties  that  were  the  causes  for 
the  Black  Hawk  and  the  Winnebago  "-Wars." 

The  McCleods  hated  the  Indians  with  a  fierce  and 
unrelenting  hatred,  and  were  cordially  hated  in  their 
turn,  and  also  greatly  feared  by  the  roving  bands  of 
savages  who  knew  them. 

Bob,  at  least  so  it  is  said,  had  sad  cause  for  his  hatred* 
of  the  Winnebagoes,  for  during  the  Indian  troubles  of 
1827,  a  party  of  three  young  bucks  had  made  a  raid 


16  INDIAN   TALES. 

upon  a  small  settlement  in  Missouri  and  had  taken  sev- 
eral persons,  among  them  young  McCleod's  betrothed, 
a  girl  of  sixteen  years. 

For  six  years  Bob  mourned  her  sincerely,  and  then 
during  one  of  his  trading  trips  to  Prairie  Du  Chien  he 
met  his  long-lost  sweetheart  and  knew  her  instantly. 
But  she  was  the  wife  of  a  Winnebago,  and  had  almost 
forgotten  her  own  people,  so  thoroughly  had  she 
become  Indianized. 

From  that  day  Bob  grew  morose  and  vindictive,  and 
his  brother  shared  in  this  feeling.  Neither  of  them  ever 
married.  In  their  difficulties  with  the  Indians— and 
they  were  known  to  have  had  many — they  were  not,  it 
is  perhaps  just  to  say,  always  the  aggressors. 

It  is  known  that  on  more  than  one  occasion  the 
brothers  were  in  danger  from  parties  of  Winnebagoes 
and  Pottawatomies,  who  had  come  upon  their  "  hunt- 
ing-circuit "  with  the  evident  intention  of  either  killing 
the  white  men  or  driving  them  across  the  river,  but 
such  was  the  address,  the  watchfulness  and  boldness  of 
Bob  and  Bill  that  in  every  instance  they  were  enabled 
to  escape,  and  sometimes  to  inflict  serious  punishment 
upon  their  enemies. 

Once  a  single  Winnebago  in  the  night  boldly 
perched  himself  among  the  branches  of  a  scrub  oak 
that  grew  at  the  foot  of  the  bluff,  and  with  gun  cocked 
and  ready,  waited  patiently  for  daylight,  when  he 
expected  to  kill  one  or  both  of  the  brothers  as  they 
came  out  of  their  cabin-door. 

As  it  happened,  Bill  had  gone  out  early  in  the  even- 
ing to  watch  deer  at  a  "lick"  in  one  of  the  hollows 
above.  He  did  not  return  until  daylight,  and  as  he 
came  around  the  point  of  the  bluff  with  a  saddle  of 


INDIAN  TALES.  17 

venison  upon  his  shoulders,  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  a 
moccasined  foot  dangling  below  the  limb  of  an  oak 
between  himself  and  the  cabin.  With  great  caution 
he  crept  nearer  to  the  object,  and  saw  that  an  Indian 
was  crouching  among  the  leaves.  As  soon  as  he  had 
obtained  a  clear  view  of  the  intended  assassin,  he  drew 
his  rifle  and  shot  him.  Bob,  who  had  been  out  all 
night  the  day  before  and  was  sleeping  late — late  for 
him—was  aroused  by  the  shot,  and  came  out  rubbing 
his  eyes  with  one  hand,  and  with  a  cocked  rifle  in  the 
other. 

The  Winnebago  had  a  bright,  new  army  musket, 
and  if  the  brothers  had  been  at  home  and— -as  fre- 
quently happened  after  getting  their  breakfast — had 
come  out  of  their  cabin-door  together,  he  might  have 
killed  them  both,  and  this  was  no  doubt  his  design. 

At  another  time,  while  Bill  and  Jules  Piquith— a 
"Canadian  Frenchman"  who  was  trapping  in  com- 
pany with  them—were  away  on  a  trading  trip,  Bob 
had  a  "  bout "  with  a  Pottawatomie,  which  came  near 
costing  him  his  life,  and  in  which  the  Indian  certainly 
was  the  victor. 

It  was  in  June.  Bill  and  Piquith  had  gone  down 
the  river  with  a  boat-load  of  furs — their  "  spring 
oatch" — to  market  them  at  Prairie  Du  Chien,  which 
was  the  nearest  trading-post.  One  evening,  several 
days  after  their  departure,  as  Bob  was  returning  down 
the  river,  in  his  dug-out,  from  a  visit  to  some  "  set- 
lines,"  at  a  famous  catfish-hole  which  he  had  discovered 
at  the  lower  end  of  an  island,  he  saw  a  canoe  shoot  out 
from  the  mouth  of  a  creek,  some  hundred  yards  ahead, 
and  glide  off  down  the  current. 

It  was  dusk,  but  Bob  thought  he  knew  the  canoe.  It 


18  IttDIAK  TALES. 

was  Bill's  dug-out,  and  somebody  was  taking  a  most 
unwarrantable  liberty  in  paddling  it  about. 

He  and  Bill,  with  a  considerable  amount  of  labor, 
had  each  fashioned  a  light  "  dug-out,"  or  canoe,  from  a 
pine  log,  for  his  own  particular  use  in  paddling  about 
to  their  traps  and  on  fishing  excursions.  Each  used  a 
broad  paddle  of  cedar,  and  could  propel  his  light  craft 
through  the  current  at  a  surprising  rate  of  speed. 

These  canoes  were  among  their  most  valuable  pos- 
sessions, therefore  Bob  was  highly  incensed  upon  seeing 
a  stranger  making  off  in  one  of  them. 

"  Hi  thwr  /  "  he  yelled.    «  You  f eller !  " 

But  the  stranger  paddled  swiftly  on  without  seeming 
to  have  heard. 

Again  Bob  called  or  rather  roared  at  the  retreating 
canoeman,  "  Hi,  you !  Land  that  dug-out  S "  And  then, 
seized  with  a  sudden  conviction  that  the  trespasser  was 
"one  o'  them  Pottawats  from  Muscada,"  the  irate 
hunter  caught  up  his  rifle  and  leveled  it.  He  found  it 
too  dark  to  sight  with  any  accuracy  and,  hastily  laying 
down  his  gun,  resumed  the  paddle. 

And  then  began  an  exciting  race. 

The  Indian,  of  course,  knew  that  he  was  pursued, 
but  evidently  relied  upon  the  growing  darkness  to  pro- 
tect him  from  the  white  man's  rifle,  an4,  upon  his  own 
dextrous  use  of  the  jpaddle  to  make  his  final  escape. 

In  the  latter  point,  however,  he  was  much  mistaken. 
Bob  was  a  man  of  great  strength,  and  an  expert  in  the 
use  of  his  broad  paddle ;  an  implement  so  large  as  to 
be  clumsy  in  the  hands  of  an  Indian  used  to  the  light 
blade  with  which  his  birch-bark  craft  was  propelled. 

In  less  than  a  mile's  run  McCleod  came  up  with  the 
Pottawatomie. 


JUDlAaiS  TALES. 


19 


The  Indian  was  on  the  look-out,  and  when  Bob's 
canoe  had  come  up  within  a  few  yards  of  him,  quickly 
dropped  his  paddle  and  caught  up  his  gun. 

Bob  was  just  on  the  point -of  reaching  for  his  own 
gun,  but  so  quick  were  the  Indian's  movements  that 
the  hunter  had  only  time  to  throw  himself  backwards 
as  the  Pottawatomie's  gun  cracked.     The  bullet  whis- 


tled over  his  head  harmlessly  enough,  and  Bob  straight- 
ened up,  with  a  hoot  of  derision. 

The  Indian,  to  expedite  his  movements,  had  dropped 
his  paddle  upon  the  current  and  Bob  saw  that  he  was 
now  vainly  reaching  for  it,  while  his  canoe  was  drifting. 

And  now,  instead  of  "  wastin'  an'  wishin',"  McCleod 
determined  to  run  the  Indian  down,  that  is,  to  upset  his 
canoe  and  strike  him  on  the  head  as  he  struggled  in 
the  water ;  but  as  he  was  about  to  drive  at  it,  over  it 
went,  and  the  Pottawatomie  disappeared  in  a  sudden 


20  INDIAN   TALES. 

plunge  into  the  water  on  the  other  side.  Bob  theught 
he  understood  that  movement.  Shooting  his  canoe 
forward  until  it  had  passed  the  drifting  one,  and  then 
catching  up  his  gun,  he  watched  sharply  for  the  Indian's 
head  to  appear  below.  It  was  not  so  dark  but  that  he 
could  see  the  surface  quite  plainly  for  a  number  of 
yards  on  either  sideband  he  knew  that  the  Indian  could 
neither  swim  very  fast,  nor  remain  very  long,  under 
water. 

He  watched  several  seconds,  but  in  vain,  for  no  head- 
appeared,  and  then  suddenly  began  to  sub  K-^t  the  trick 
that  had  been  played  him.  He  was  just  tnt-nt  to  turn 
and  take  a  look  at  the  overturned  canoe,  whan  he  felt  it 
grate  against  the  stern  of  his  own.  He  th-.  w  his  rifle 
around,  with  a  quick  intuition  of  what  wa  '  about  to 
happen,  but  he  was  too  late.  McCleod  n  ver  knew 
exactly  how  it  was  done,  but  as  he  turned,  his  canoe 
was  given  a  violent  wrench  at  the  stern,  and  he  was 
pitched,  gun  in  hand,  neatly  out  into  the  water. 

The  Indian  had  either  come  up  under  the  over-turned 
canoe,  or  just  behind  it,  and  as  it  drifted  down  against 
Bob's  craft,  the  wily  fellow  had  seized  and  upset  it, 
well  knowing  that  with  his  rifle  wet  and  himself  in  the 
water,  the  white  man  would  not  be  a  formidable  foe. 

Bob  came  to  the  surface  spluttering,  but  clinging 
instinctively  to  his  rifle. 

"  Hoo !  hoo ! "  shouted  the  Indian.  "  How  you  like? " 
McCleod  turned  his  head,  and  saw  the  Pottawatomie 
making  off,  swimming  toward  the  point  of  an  island — 
the  channel  was  studded  with  them — some  fifty  yards 
below  ;  and,  angrily  determined  to  punish  the  Indian 
at  all  hazzards,  he  immediately  struck  out  and  gave 
chase. 


INDIAN  TALES.  21 

Both  swimmers  were  encumbered  with  their  rifles, 
but  the  Indian  had  several  yards  the  start,  and  proved 
himself  as  good  a  swimmer  as  the  white  man.  He 
reached  a  ridge  of  sand,  against  which  the  deep  current 
was  wearing,  as  much  in  advance  as  he  had  started, 
and  quickly  drawing  himself  up,  faced  about  and 
clubbed  his  gun.  By  the  time  the  Indian  had  executed 
this  maneuver,  Bob  had  come  within  striking  distance, 
and  suddenly  realized  that  he  had  made  another  mis- 
take. 

Just  as  his  feet  struck  bottom,  the  Pottawatomie 
leaned  forward — the  Indian  was  standing  up  to  his 
knees  in  sand — and  struck  viciously  at  him  with  the 
barrel  of  his  gun.  Bob  had  barely  time  to  throw  his 
head  to  one  side,  and  the  blow  fell  with  benumbing 
force  upon  his  right  shoulder,  and  glancing,  knocked 
the  rifle  out  of  his  hand. 

Bob  had  the  presence  of  mind  to  throw  himself 
quickly  backward,  to  kick  vigorously  with  both  feet, 
while  he  "  pawed  the  water  "  with  his  left  hand  ;  his 
right  he  could  not  use. 

This  energetic  plunge  undoubtedly  saved  his  life,  for 
before  the  Indian  could  recover,  to  deal  another  blow, 
he  was  out  of  reach.  He  now  swam  on  his  side  out  a 
few  yards  into  the  current  and  treading  water  with  his 
feet  awaited  the  canoes,  which  were  drifting  down 
toward  him.  The  Indian  plunged  into  the  water, 
secured  Bob's  rifle,  then  he  stood  on  the  bank  and  shook 
both  guns  at  the  discomfited  hunter. 

"  Hi,  you  !  "  he  yelled.  "  You  want  £un  you  come 
git."  Then  he  dropped  the  guns,  laughed,  slapped  his 
legs,  and  hooted  at  the  enraged  Bob  all  the  derisive 
English  of  his  vocabulary. 


Sffi  INDIAN   TALES. 

As  for  McCleod,  he  had  nothing  to  say,  but  bore  his 
misfortune  with  outward  stoicism,  like  a  savage  in  this 
respect  at  least,  and  when  the  canoes  drifted  alongside, 
he  managed  to  get  himself  astride  the  bottom  of  one, 
and  by  the  use  of  his  uninjured  arm  and  his  legs  to 
paddle  it  ashore  at  the  main  bank.  Leaving  the  Indian 
to  capture  the  other  and  make  off  at  his  leisure,  Bob 
went  home  to  his  cabin  to  nurse  his  wound  and  his 
wrath. 

It  was  some  days  before  he  could  use  his  right  hand, 
even  to  feed  himself.  He  had  a  musket  and  plenty  of 
ammunition  at  the  cabin,  and  with  this  weapon  he  was 
obliged  to  content  himself,  until  it  came  his  turn  to 
make  the  fall  trading  trip. 

He  never  saw  his  rifle  again,  although  the  canoe  was 
accidentally  discovered  the  following  spring.  It  was 
hid  near  the  mouth  of  a  creek,  not  far  from  the  then 
deserted  Pottawatomie  village. 


m. 

AN  EXCITING  BOAT  RIDE. 

"Isn't  that  the  mouth  of  White  Kiver % "  I  said  to 
Capt.  Isaac  Brodhead,  of  the  river  steamer  Treadwell, 
with  whom  I  had  taken  passage  for  a  trip  wp  the  Mis- 
souri not  many  months  agoT  The  evening  was  advanc- 
ing. We  were  standing  on  deck,  enjoying  the  moon- 
lit scenery,  and  had  just  come  up  opposite  a  gap  in  the 
low  hills,  showing  a  valley,  up  the  bottom  of  which  I 
could  see  a  long  arm  of  shining  water. 

"Yes,"  answered  the  captain,  who  stood  leaning 
upon  the  taffrail.  Presently  he  came  to  where  I  stood, 
and  seated  himself  on  the  rail,  with  his  back  to  the 
water. 

"  I  made  the  money  to  buy  this  boat,  or  ruther  the 
one  that  I  owned  before  this,  off  that  river,"  he 
remarked,  and  the  remark  was  in  a  tone  that  plainly 
invited  a  question. 

"  And  how  was  that  ? "  I  asked. 

"Trapping,"  he  answered.  "Twenty  years  ago 
there  was  more  fur  to  the  mile  along  the  banks  of 
White'Earth — that's  what  we  called  the  river  then — 
than  on  any  other  stream  of  its  size  that  runs  into  the 
Missouri. 

"  Fur  brought  a  good  price  then,  too,"  he  continued. 
"A  trapper  could  make  money  in  those  days,  if  he 
cared  to  save.  Most  trappers  are  too  free  with  their 
cash.    It  wasn't  so  with  me,  though," 

He  sat  thoughtful  after  this,  and  at  length  I  fea- 
tured a  question. 

^  as 


34  INDIAN  TALES. 

"  Did  you  go  out  alone  when  you  trapped  on  the 
White  Earth ! " 

"  No,  of  course  not.  The  business  was  too  danger- 
ous ;  and  then  two  or  three  men  could  trap  to  better 
advantage  than  one.  I  used  to  trap  with  two  fellows 
named  Thad  Peters  and  Gil  Yillemont.  We  started 
Out  in  September,  and  did  not  get  back  on  to  the  Mis- 
souri till  the  middle  of  the  next  May,  or  later.  ' 

"  For  two  seasons  we  went  up  White  Earth  in  a  big 
skiff,  and  when  we  come  back,  it  was  loaded  so  full  of 
pelts  that  two  of  us  had  to  walk  along  shore,  while  the 
other  steered  the  skiff. 

"  The  last  time  we  had  to  make  a  big  dug-out  canoe, 
pack  part  of  them  in  that,  and  take  it  in  tow.  We 
could  have  made  another  for  two  of  us  to  ride  down  in, 
but  it  was  such  a  desperate  lot  of  work  to  dig  one  out 
with  the  tools  we  had,  that  we'd  rather  walk.  We 
always  kept  another  boat  cached  near  the  mouth  of 
White  Earth,  an'  when  we  struck  the  river,  we  pulled 
this  out  of  its  hiding,  calked  it,,  and  sailed  down  to 
Omaha,  where  we  spent  our  summers  and  sold  our  fur. 

"  In  the  fall  we  loaded  our  boats  on  some  up-river 
steamer,  which  took  them  and  us  back  again  to  the 
mouth  of  White  Earth,  and  landed  us  there. 

"But  the  third  season  we  took  with  us  a  bigger  boat, 
a  flafrscow  skiff  large  enough  to  bring  us  back  and  all 
the  pelts  we  might  take  in  the  season.  She  was 
twenty-one  feet  long,  eight  and  a  half  wide  in  the 
center,  with  planked  sides  twenty-two  inches  high. 
She  had  two  sweep-oars  on  the  sides,  and  a  steering 
oar  that  would  work  on  either  end. 

"  She  was  a  queer  kind  of  craft,  made  so  as  not  to 
draw  much  water  going  up  the  river,  for  at  that  season 


INDIAN    TALES.  25 

the  water  was  always  low.  In  the  spring,  during  the 
freshets,  the  stream  was  generally  deep  enough  in  mid- 
channel  for  the  heaviest  river  craft,  and  that  was  the 
time  when  we  came  down  with  our  load. 

"  Well,  we  set  off  in  the  big  boat  at  the  mouth  of 
White  Earth  about  the  first  of  September,  and  by  the 
middle  of  the  month  we  had  worked  our  way  a  hundred 
and  twenty-five  miles  up  the  stream  to  the  mouth  of 
Porcupine.  Here  we  had  a  dug-out  hut,  stoned  up  in 
front,  which  was  Injun-proof  (at  least  while  we  were 
inside  of  it),  and  which  we  used  for  our  winter  quarters. 

"  We  had  been  lucky  in  having  never  seen  an  Injun 
in  that  vicinity,  or  when  we  were  passing  up  or  down 
the  river.  There  was  not,  however,  very  much  risk  of 
meeting  them,  unless  it  was  at  a  camp  or  a  crossing, 
and  in  those  days  the  savages  never  seemed  to  hunt 
along  White  Earth,  except  in  early  summer,  when  the 
deer  and  elk  came  down  to  the  bottoms -to  raise  their 
fawns  and  calves,  where  there  was  tall  grass  and  good 
hiding-places. 

"  In  fact,  the  only  two  tribes  that  we  were  afraid  of 
were  the  Brutes  up  on  the  Missouri  and  the  Oglallas 
down  on  the  Niobrara,  and  we  ran  the  risk  of  encoun- 
tering them,  as  fellows  of  our  craft  always  took  their 
chances  of  meeting  the  redskins  twenty  years  ago. 

"  But  we  got  through  the  winter  very  satisfactorily, 
and  did"  not  meet  with  any  misadventure  until  we 
were  coming  down  the  river  in  the  spring,  with  our 
furs,  and  were  within  a  day's  run  of  the  Missouri. 
The  boat  was  loaded  with  pelts.  We  had  on  board 
sufficient  provision  for  the  run  down  to  Omaha,  so 
that  it  was  not  necessary  to  land.  We  had  made  a 
week's  bread  ahead,  and  had  placed  flat  stones  in  the 


26  INDIAN  TALES. 

scow  on  which  to  build  a  fire.  Dry  willow  tops  and 
limbs  of  trees  could  be  gathered  as  we  went  along,  to 
cook  meat  and  coffee. 

"  Our  furs  were  baled,  and  wrapped  tightly  in  buf 
falo  skins,  and  these  were  packed  around  the  sides  of 
the  boat,  so  that  the  oars  would  just  work  over  the  top 
of  them. 

"There  was  but  little  need,  however  of  using  the 
oars  for  the  riveF~was  high — all  back  over  the  bot- 
toms—and the  current  in  the  middle  channel  was 
swift  and  strong.  It  took  us-along  about  five  miles  an 
hour,  and  we  should  have  probably  reached  the 
Missouri  by  noon  of  the  second  day  without  seeing  an 
Indian  if  we  hadn't  camped  over  the  first  night. 

"  Just  after  we  had  shoved  out  from  shore  on  the 
morning  of  the  day  before  we  reached  the  Missouri 
Gil  Yillemont  sang  out : 

"  Look  over  there,  boys  S    "We've  got  company ! " 

"He  was  in  the  bow.  or  the  end  that  happened  to  be 
the  bow  at  the  time,  and  pointed  to  the  prairie  to  the 
right.  Thad  and  I  looked.  What  should  we  see  but 
what  seemed  to  us  a  hundred  Indians,  more  or  less,  on 
ponies,  galloping  down  a  long  slope  towards  the  river  ! 

"  For  a  moment  we  Were  so  surprised  that  we  just 
sat  and  stared  at  them,  when  all  at  once  the  gang  dis- 
covered us,  and  brought  their  ponies  to  a  standstill 
instantly. 

"  Mates,'  said  Gil,  I'm  sure  they  are  Oglallers,  for 
they  always  go  in  droves.  -  We  had  better  get  out  of 
gun-shot     They  can't  come  after  us  on  horseback.' 

u  Gil  and  I  seized  the  oars,  jwhile  Thad  steered,  and 
turned  the  boat  out  of  the  channel  over  on  to  the 
' swash- watef '  of  the  bottom  land. 


INDIAN  TALES.  27 

-me  Indian  no  sooner  saw  us  move  than  they  set 

up  a  yell  that  could  have  been  heard  a  mile  away,  and 
came  dashing  down  to  the  water's  edge.  It  didn't  take 
many  sweeps  of  our  long  oars  to  run  across  near  the 
other  shore,  and  then  there  was  nearly  a  half-mile  of 
deep  water  between  us  and  the  savages. 

" '  They  can't  bother  us  much  now'/  said  Thad,  i  for 
neither  their  guns  nor  their  arrows  will  reach  us  here, 
and  we  shall  get  to  the  old  '  Misery '  by  night.  So 
let  them  pow-wow  if  they  want  to,  or  they  can  f oiler 
us  down  the  river,  as  they  choose." 

" '  Yes,'  said  Gil,  who  was  a  queer-talking  fellow, 
and  drawled  out  his  words  when  he  wished  to  make  a 
point ; '  yes,  but  remember,  lad,  this  is  May  and  the 
ice  is  out.  We've  hed  warm  spring  rains  a-plenty,  and 
thar's  nothing  under  the  sun  to  keep  part  of  those 
rascals  from  swimming  over  behind  us,  ef  they  should 
take  it  into  their  heads  to  tackle  us  from  both  sides  at 
once.' 

"  That  wasn't  a  pleasant  view  to  take  of  our  situa- 
tion, and  we  hadn't  gone  two  hundred  rods  before  we 
saw  that  that  was  exactly  what  the  savages  intended 
to  do  for  in  a  few  moments  a  part  of  them  rode  into 
the  water  and  started  for  the  opposite  bank.  Then 
they  slipped  off  behind,  and  each  savage  caught  his 
horse  by  the  tail  and  steered  him  across. 

"  We  at  once  steered  our  boat  back  again  into  the 
middle  of  the  channel,  and  as  the  stream  broadened 
out  below  us  for  a  mile  or  so,  we  had  a  chance  to  pre- 
pare for  defense  before  we  should  reach  narrow  places 
where  the  Indians  would  have  a  chance  to  shoot  us. 

"  We  had  each  a  rifle,  muzzle-loader,  of  course ;  for 
that  was  before  the  day  of  Winchesters.    Among  us 


28  INDIAN  TALES. 

we  numbered  fiv«  big  six-shot  revolvers.  We  were 
well-armed  for  the  times ;  but  what  were  three  men  in 
the  face  of  a  hundred  Indians?  Even  if  we  had  a 
thousand  guns,  we  couldn't  use  but  one  apiece,  at  a 
time,  and  one  of  us  must  attend  to  the  steering  of  the 
boat. 

"  We  judged,  too,that  the  Indians  were  Qglallas,  from 
the  fact  that  they  evidently  came  from  the  south,  and 
had  a  large  number  of  ponies  with  them  besides  what 
they  rode ;  and  we  concluded  that  they  felt  sure  our 
boat  was  loaded  with  valuable  furs,  that  could  be 
traded  for  guns  and  ammunition  at  the  agencies.  It 
would  be  a  great  prize  for  them,  and  we  felt  sure  that 
they  would  do  their  best  to  capture  our  cargo. 

"  Gil,  who'd  had  more  than  one  skirmish  with  Indi- 
ans, planned  our  defense  for  us.  He  had  us  stack  the 
fur-bales  in  three  different  places,  one  at  the  stern,  one 
at  the  bow  and  one  midway — a  row  on  each  side,  so  as 
to  shelter  each  of  us  completely,  while  settin'  between 
them.  Then  he  took  his  place  in  the  stern  to  steer. 
It  was  a  cramped  position  and  the  most  dangerous 
one ;  for  when  he  came  to  a  strong  side  current,  he'd 
be  sure  to  have  to  raise  up,  in  order  to  git  the  right 
sweep  for  his  oar-handle.     But  he  was  a  brave  fellow. 

" '  JSTow,  boys,'  said  he,  when  Thad  an'  I'd  got  fixed 
in  between  our  stacks,  each  with  rifle,  revolvers  and 
ammunition  in  front  of  him,  '  I  want  you  to  keep  cool, 
boys.  Don't  show  yourselves  to  get  a  shot.  In  fact, 
don't  shoot  at  all  unless  they  get  on  a  point  in  front  of 
us,  at  some  of  the  narrows.  Then  we  shall  have  to 
drive  them  back;  for  then  I  must  stand  upimd  steer 
hard  to  keep  the  boat  from  the  shore.    Gil  drawled 


INDIAN   TALES.  W 

this  out  in  his  slow,  queer  way,  and  Thad  and  I  prom- 
ised to  heed  his  suggestions. 

"  In  the  meantime  part  of  the  Indians  had  crossed, 
and  now  both  squads  of  them  were  galloping  down, 
one  on  each  side  of  the  river,  to  reach  some  of  the  nar- 
rows in  front  of  us.  A  mile  or  so  ahead  there  was  a 
place,  such  as  you'll  find  every  once  in  a  while  on  all 
small  "streams,  a  place  where  the  high-lands  came 
crowding  the  valley  in  on  both  sides,  and  of  course  the 
flood  of  water  is  pinched  up  into  a  narrower  channel. 
Luckily  for  us,  though,  in  this  place  which  would  give 
good  arrow-range  from  both  sides,  the  water  was 
swift,  much  stronger  and  swifter  than  anywhere  else. 

"  Well,  both  gangs  came  crowding  down  into  the 
very  edges  of  the  water  and  ranged  themselves  out  in 
lines.  Then  they  got  off  their  ponies  and  stood  in  the 
water  behind  them,  so  as  to  protect  their  bodies ;  for 
the  rascals  were'nt  any  more  ready  to  take  chances  in 
those  days  than  they  are  now.  Thad  was  in  the  bow. 
He  was  a  hare-brained  fellow,  but  a  good  shot.  As 
soon  as  we  had  drifted  near  enough,  so  that  we  were " 
within  rifle-shot,  he  rose  up,  rested  his  rifle  over  the 
top  of  his  barricade,  took  a  long,  close  aim,  and  fired. 

"  Gil  and  I  both  craned  our  heads  to  see  if  the  shot 
did  execution,  and  I  saw  the  nearest  pony  on  the  right 
bank  rear  up  and  fall  over  into  the  water.  The  Indian 
behind  him  scampered  to  another  pony ;  whereupon 
the  whole  gang  set  up  a  yell  and  began  firing  their 
guns  and  shooting  arrows  from  both  sides  of  the  river. 

"  Of  course,  we  were  obliged  to  stick  close  to  cover. 
The  arrows  skipped  and  whizzed  over  our  heads,  and 
the  bullets  struck  the  planks  like  the  clatter  of  hail- 


r 


30  INDIAN   TALES. 

stones.  JTwas  fortunate  that  we  had  the  furs  packed 
in  several  folds  of  hard,  dry  buffalo  skins  ^  and  it  was 
still  more  fortunate  for  us  that  we  had  them  at  all,  for 
we  never  could  have  passed  those  two  lines  of  fire 
without  being  'hit,  for  some  of  the  savages  fired  their 
arrows  into  the  air  at  such  an  angle  that  when  they 
came  down  they  fell  into  our  boat.  More  than  one 
feathered  shaft  buried  its  head  in  the  planks  on  the 
outer  edge  of  the  boat,  but  not  one  happened  to  hit  us. 

"  We  made  the  run  of  the  narrows  in  about  a  min- 
ute, and  neither  of  us  was  wounded.  As  we  passed 
below  we  held  a  bale  of  skins  at  the  back  end  of  the 
boat,  so  as  to  stop  shots  from  the  rear.  In  a  minu„o 
more  we  were  out  of  reach.  Gil  laid  the  steering-oar 
out  straight  behind,  and  we  swept  along,  swiftly,  down 
the  center  channel. 

44  As  soon  as  we  were  fairly  out  of  range  on  another 
broad  stretch  of  water,  we  looked  up  to  see  what  the 
Indians  were  doing.  We  rather  hoped  they  would 
now  leave  us  alone  after  wasting  so  much  ammunition ; 
but  we  were  disappointed,  for  they  rode  along  the 
highlands,  on  each  side,  and  swarmed  beside  us  like 
two  flocks  of  black  buzzards  hoyering  over  a  wounded 
buffalo.  They  knew  there  were  more  narrows  ahead, 
and  they  evidently  hoped  that  in  some  of  them  the 
current  would  not  favor  us  as  it  had  in  the  one  we  had 
just  passed. 

"Well,  after  floating 'something  more  than  five 
miles,  we  had  another  gauntlet  to  run,  and  here  Gil 
had  to  raise  his  head  and  arms  above  his  barricade,  to 
give  an  extra  sweep,  so  as  to  steer  us  out  clear  of  a 
strong  side-current,  splitting  off  at  a  little  island  and 


INDIA!?  TALES.  31 

runnin'  in  sharp  against  the  other  bank.  He  could  see 
ahead  enough  to  tell  what  turn,  of  the  oar  was  needed ; 
Jbut  as  he  was  giving  the  sweep,  an  arrow  struck  the 
brim  of  his  wool  hat  and  the  shaft  ran  clean  through 
to  the  feathers.    There  it  stuck. 

"  '  I've  got  a  new  ornament  to  my  head-dress/  said 
he,  cool  as  you  please,  as  he  leaned  back  again  between 
his  bales. 

"  In  a  minute  or  two  we  were  out  of  the  reach  of 
their  arrows  again,  and  runnin'  down-stream,  between 
two  lines  of  thick  trees,  that  the  water  roared  and 
swashed  amongst  "with  a  noise  that  half-drowned  the 
yells  of  the  savages.  And  they  did  yell,  fearfully, 
every  time  we  passed  them.  -  . 

"  This  was  but  a  specimen  of  our  experience  for 
eight  or  ten  hours  that  day.  The  rascals  were  loath  to 
give  us  up ;  and  hour  after  hour  they  followed  on, 
swimmin'  the  mouths  of  creeks,  keeping  well  to  the 
front,  and  shootin'  at  us  whenever  there  was  the 
slightest  chance  of  hitting  the  boat. 

"  But  they  either  got  discouraged,  or  else  short  of 
ammunition  at  last ;  for  a  little  before  sundown  they 
pulled  up,  looked  after  us  awhile,  then  set  off  on  their 
return  up  stream. 

"  We  got  up  then  and  stretched  our  legs  and  exam- 
ined the  boat  and  the  furs. 

"  More  than  fifty  arrows  were  sticking  in  the  planks 
and  into  the  buffalo-skins  of  the  bales,  and  there  were 
plenty  of  bullet-marks,  too.  It  fairly  looked  as  if  the 
old  scow  had  feathered  out,  the  arrows  were  so  thick. 
But  I  assure  you  we  were  glad  to  get  off  without  any 
of  them  in  our  skins.    Gil  was  nearly  beat  out ;  and  I 


32  INDIAN  TALES. 

took  his  plaoe  until  about  dark,  when  we  shot  out  into 
the  Missouri,  then  pulled  across  and  camped  on  the 
other  side  for  supper.  We  went  on,  however,  as  soon 
as  we  had  rested  our  cramped  legs^a  little  by  walking 
about ;  and  a  week  later  we  got  down  to  Omaha,  safe 
and  sound,  with  over  three  thousand  dollars'  worth  of 
furs." 


IV. 

A  RACE  FOR  LIFE. 

Several  years  before  the  first  real  settlers  came  to 
build  their  log  houses  on  the  banks  of  Spirit  and  Oko- 
boji  Lakes,  the  wandering  trapper  and  fur-hunter  had 
discovered  both  their  beauties  and  their  uses. 

These  fine  lakes  now  furnish  a  summer  resort  for 
hundreds  of  families  in  Iowa,  and  for  tourists  from 
nearly  all  the  Northern  and  Eastern  States.  Yet  when 
James  Freeman  and  David  Utter  built  their  trapper's 
hut,  a  little  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  at  the  north 
point  of -West  Okoboji,  there  was  not  a  settler's  cabin 
within  fifty  miles  of  them.  Fifteen  years  ago,  the 
three  sheets  of  water,  Spirit,  West  and  East  Okoboji 
Lakes,  that  every  pleasant  day  in  summer  are  now 
flecked  with  yacht  sails,  had  then  known  no  boat  larger 
than  a  canoe. 

James  Freeman's  first  advent  into  this  region  was 
some  time  about  1852,  he  believes,  though  for  a  long 
period  of  his  trapping  life  the  years  went  on  with  him 
so  much  the  same  that  he  says  he  "  gits  'em  kind  o' 
mixed." 

He  first  saw  the  region  when  out  one  summer  elk- 
hunting  with  a  party  of  "Johnny  Green's  Tribe"  of 
Chippewas.  He  was  so  delighted  with  the  lakes  that 
he  came  back  with  his  traps  and  spent  the  fall  and 
winter  there,  living  literally  in  a  hole  like  a  badger's 
duo-  back  in  one  of  the  banks.     He  had  such  success 

o 

that  season  that,  upon  returning  to  Prairie  du  Chien  in 

as 


34  INDIAN  TALES. 

the  spring,  his  lean  ponies  loaded  down  with  rat,  mink 
and  fox  skins,  he  easily  found  a  partner  to  go  back 
with  him  the  next  fall. 

It  was  a  young  man  named  David  Utter  who  went 
out  with  him  upon  the  second  trip. 

On  account  of  the  large  number  of  rat  sloughs  which 
lay  to  westward  and  northward  of  the  lakes,  they 
made  their  winter  quarters  on  the  beach  at  the  upper 
end  of  West  Okoboji,  which  was  quite  bare  of  timber, 
and  even  bushes.  But  the  bank  was  high,  and  shel- 
tered their  cabin  from  the  northwest  winds,  which,  in 
this  part  of  the  country,  nearly  always  bring  the  fierc- 
est storms. 

They  cut  hay  for  their  ponies  and  built  a  comfort- 
able shed,  and  passed  a  very  prosperous,  though,  as  it 
happened,  on  account  of  steady  hard  cold,  a  rather 
monotonous  winter. 

Spring  came  again  at  last,  and  the  early  summer 
brought  the  trappers  back  loaded  with  furs  to  James's 
usual  market  at  Prairie  du  Chien. 

The  two  men  kept  quiet  about  the  rich  trapping 
grounds  they  had  discovered  in  the  far  northwest  of 
Iowa,  but  nevertheless  when  they  returned  to  the 
lakes  the  next  fall,  they  found  a  large  log  cabin  built 
in  the  woods  at  the  lower  end  of  West  Okoboji,  and 
four  young  men,  brothers,  from  the  vicinity  of 
Prairie  du  Chien,  inhabiting  it.  These  newcomers 
had  been  exploring  the  region,  and  had  discovered,  by 
the  stakes  left  sticking  in  various  places  to  mark  it 
out,  the  grounds  already  claimed  by  Freeman  and 
Utter,  and  had  staked  out  grounds  for  themselves, 
taking  in  "Gar"  Lake,  the  "outlet,"  and  several 
miles  on  both  banks  of  the  Little  Sioux  river  below. 


INDIAN  TALES.  35 

As  the  four  young  fellows — their  patronymic  was 
Gilman — had  shown  such  thorough  regard  for  James's 
and  David's  rights  as  trappers,  the  latter  could  find 
no  fault  with  them,  and  the  six  trappers  came  to  an 
amicable  agreement  to  hold  the  lakes  in  common 
against  all  future  pioneers. 

James  and  David  took  up  their  old  quarters,  seven 
miles  from  the  Gilmans;  seven  miles  of  beautiful, 
clear  water,  plentifully  stocked  with  fish,  which 
formed  a  constant  source  of  supply  for  the  trappers' 
rude  table.  Fur  and  game  were  as  abundant  as  ever, 
and  the  outlook  for  the  season  was  bright. 

Yet  misfortune  came  to  them. 

In  the  first  place,  David  was  taken  down  in  October 
with  malarial  fever,  caught,  no  doubt,  by  exposure  in 
the  rat-sloughs.  James  was  compelled  to  stay 
constantly  by  him  for  several  weeks,  though  the 
Gilman  boys  took  turns,  coming  across  in  their  canoe, 
to  sit  up  nights  with  him. 

One  night,  when  David  had  taken  a  turn  for  the 
better  and  James  was  sleeping  by  his  side,  their  four 
ponies  were  stolen  from  the  shed,  and  the  settlers 
never  saw  them  afterwards.  The  animals  were  prob- 
ably taken  by  some  solitary  Indian,  or  else  by  a  party 
of  them. 

This  was  not  only  a  serious  loss,  but  a  deep  cause 
for  alarm  to  all  the  trappers.  James  and  David  had 
never  seen  any  sign  of  Indians  in  all  their  trapping 
there,  except  old  tepee  stakes  and  a  few  decayed  fish- 
drying  racks  along  the  beaches. 

As  David  grew  better,  however — such  is  the  hardi- 
hood of  the  trapper — James  left  him  bolstered  up  on 
the  bunk,  and  began  to  put  out  the  traps  again. 


36  INDIAN  TALES. 

It  was  now  late  in  the  fall,  and  though  there  was 
no  snow  as  yet,  there  had  come  a  cold  "  snap "  that 
froze  two  or  three  inches  of  rough  ice  over  the  surface 
of  the  lakes. 

James  had  been  out  twice  with  the  sled,  putting 
traps  along  the  beach,  baiting  them  with  fish,  and  the 
third  day  as  he  was  returning  just  before  sundown 
from  his  beat,  he  happened  to  look  off  over  the  high 
prairie  to  the  northwest,  when  a  sight  met  his  eyes  that 
gave  him  a  sudden  and  great  alarm. 

It  was  a  party  of  horsemen  coming  down  towards 
the  lake.  He  watched  them  a  few  seconds,  and  though 
they  were  fully  three  miles  distant,  he  was  certain  they 
were  Sioux. 

"  Some  of  'em,"  he  said,  "  have  ben  sneakin'  round  'n' 
stole  our  hosses,  'n5  now  they've  gone  back  fer  others 
tu  drive  us  out  o'  here." 

As  near  as  he  could  count,  there  were  more  than 
thirty  of  them,  and  he  concluded  at  once  that  their 
bold  manner  of  approach  was  to  be  accounted  for  by 
their  numbers. 

James  knew  them  of  old  for  a  daring  and  relentless 
horde.  But  he  did  not  wait  to  study  the  situation  long ; 
he  plied  his  skates  in  a  straight  shoot  for  the  cabin, 
which  was  a  half-mile  to  the  north,  almost  directly  in 
the  face  of  the  coming  horsemen. 

He  kept  his  eyes  upon  the  latter,  however,  and  soon 
saw  that  they  had  discovered  him  and  noted  his  move- 
ment, for  they  whipped  up  their  ponies,  and  headed 
them  directly  toward  the  cabin. 

But  he  could  reach  the  cabin  first,  and  he  thought  if 
David  were  only  well  they  might  have  time  to  barri- 
cade and  fight  off  the  savages ;  but  Utter  was  not  yet 


INDIAN  TALES.  **      37 

able  to  stand  on  his  feet,  and  he  must  be  saved  at  all 
hazards. 

James'  plan  was  quickly  made,  as  he  dashed  for- 
ward. He  reached  the  cabin  by  the  time  the  Indians 
had  made  a  mile  run,  as  he  conjectured,  after  he  came 
where  the  bank  hid  them  from  view.  Bursting  open 
the  "  shake  "  door,  he  rushed  inside,  without  untying 
the  sledr-rope  from  his  belt. 

David  was  sitting  up  in  the  bunk,  his  back  to  the 
wall,  busily  trying  to  mend  an  old  pair  of  moccasins 
with  his  "  buckskin  needle "  and  a  "  waxed  end." 
Without  giving  him  time  to  say  a  word,  James  caught 
down  his  partner's  rifle  and  pistol  which  hung  on  the 
wall,  thrust  them  and  the  ammunition-bag  into 
David's  hands,  and  catching  the  blankets  around  the 
astounded  invalid,  gathered  him  forcibly  into  his  arms, 
and  carried  him  out  and  deposited  him  upon  the  sled, 
just  outside  the  door. 

"  Injuns/'  he  said,  when  Dave  had  caught  his  breath 
enough  to  ask  what  was  "  all  this  racket  about  ? " 

"  Better  leave  me  V  scoot,  if  there's  many  of  'em 
comin',"  suggested  David,  coolly. 

"  Not  a  thought  on't,  ol'  boy  ;  you  jest  grit  yer  teeth 
'n'  hang  on,  V  I'll  pull  ye  through  tu  Gilmans'." 

"  Gimme  your  gun,  too,  then,"  said  Dave.  "  I  can 
hang  to  both  of  'em  'n'  the  sled  too." 

His  growing  excitement  gave  him  strength. 

"  All  right,  Dave,  ye  kin  try  it,"  said  James,  who 
was  now  busily  strapping  a  small  box  of  powder  and 
lead  upon  the  rounds  of  the  sled,  between  Dave's  legs ; 
when  he  had  secured  the  latter  he  strapped  Dave's  legs 
down,  too. 

^MDan't  roll  off  if  ye  try,  now,"  he  exclaimed ;  and  he 


38  INDIAN   TALES.  *< 

delayed  yet  a  moment  longer  to  fasten  the  blankets 
around  the  poor  weak  boy's  body.  "  Now  we'll  streak 
it,  Davy,  straight  shoot  for  Gilmans' !  " 

Away  the  brave  fellow  darted,  dragging  the  sled 
with  its  precious  freight  at  his  heels. 

As  soon  as  he  had  got  out  on  the  lake  from  under 
the  bluff  where  he  could  glance  back  over  the  high 
bank,  the  intrepid  skater  saw  that  he  had  not  a  half- 
mile  the  start  of  the  Indians.  They  were  coming  as 
fast  as  their  ponies  could  carry  them ;  and  they  set  up 
the  usual  hideous  yelling  when  they  sighted  the 
whites. 

"  Lot  of  'em,  ain't  they  ? "  said  David,  in  his 
squeaky,  weak  voice,  after  twisting  his  neck  for  a 
look  at  the  Indians.  "  They'll  try  to  ketch  us  on  them 
p'ints  down  yender,  Jim." 

"  Yes ! "  shouted  Freeman.  "  Don't  bother  me  with 
talk ;  I've  got  ter  work  now  ! " 

James  had  understood  the  danger  from  his  very  first 
thought  of  this  plan  of  escape.  The  two  points  of 
land  that  project  into  the  water,  the  one  on  the  left, 
about  three  miles  down  the  lake,  and  the  other  on  the 
right,  nearly  opposite  the  Gilman  cabin,  would  either 
of  them  give  the  Indians  a  chance  to  cut  him  off,  if 
they  could  get  out  on  them  before  he  passed. 

If  the  ice  had  only  been  smooth,  he  would  have 
laughed  at  his  pursuers,  well  knowing  that  he  could 
reach  Gilmans'  before  they  got  half-way  down  the 
lake;  and  once  with  those  four  sturdy,  well-armed 
fellows,  there  in  the  woods,  he  would  not  fear  fifty 
Indians.  But  the  ice  was  rough,  and  do  his  best,  he 
knew  he  could  not  drag  that  loaded  sled  and  make 
more  than  twelve  miles  an  hour;   and  the  chances 


INDIAN   TALES.  39 

were  that  the  ponies  on  the  smooth  prairie  would 
considerably  exceed  that  rate.  Still  he  hoped  for  the 
best,  and  skated  at  his  handsomest  pace. 

As  he  and  Dave  had  expected,  the  Sioux  saw  their 
advantage;  and  without  losing  a  moment,  they 
divided  into  two  parties  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  and 
came  yelling  down  both  shores  at  the  top  of  their 
horses'  speed. 

It  was  a  hard  race  for  James.  On  the  left-hand 
side,  an  inward  curve  of  the  lake  gave  that  party  of 
the  savages  an  advantage ;  but  on  the  other  hand,  an 
outward  sweep  of  the  shore  would  compel  the  others 
to  go  round.  In  ten  minutes  the  Sioux  on  the  left 
bank  were  neck  and  neck  with  the  skater ;  and  their 
shouts  came  across  the  quarter-mile  of  ice  with  start- 
ling distinctness. 

"Better  cut  me  loose,"  squeaked  David;  "you 
can't  save  us  both,  old  fellow." 

"  No,  never ! "  growled  Jim,  and  then  bending  for- 
ward and  hugging  the  shore  a  little  closer,  where  the 
ice  was  more  smooth  he  lent  his  energy  to  a  splendid 
trial  of  speed,  that  carried  him  ahead  of  the  foremost 
Indian,  and  passed  the  point  in  advance  of  him — the 
whole  gang  of  them  whooping  and  screeching  fright- 
fully to  flurry  the  fugitives.  Several  shots  were  fired ; 
the  bullets  pattered  on  the  ice  behind  the  sled,  but 
did  not  strike  it. 

David  could  hardly  contain  himself  at  this  successful 
run.  He  cheered  and  crowed,  in  his  weak  way,  but 
so  earnestly,  nevertheless,  that  it  warmed  the  heart  of 
the  brave,  cool  skater.  It  added  a  mile  an  hour  to  his 
speed,  he  said,  "  ter  hear  Dave  squawk." 

Fast  as  he  was  skating,  however,  he  kept  a  cautious 


40  INDIAN   TALES. 

eye  on  the  Indians  who  were  now  flying  along  the 
right-hand  bank,  to  cut  him  off  at  the  lower  point. 
They  were  gaining  ground  and  rounding  the  broad 
curve  of  the  shore.  y_Five  or  six  of  them  seemed  to  be 
mounted  on  swifter  ponies  than  the  rest,  and  were  con- 
siderably ahead,  riding  scattered  out  in  line,  their 
bodies  lying  nearly  flat  along  their  animals'  backs,  so 
as  to  catch  as  little  wind  as  possible,  and  each  Indian 
plying  his  quirt  with  downward  strokes  and  desperate 
energy. 

"  S-c-r-r-r-t-t  /  S-c-r-r-r-t-t !  Jim's  skates  scratched 
over  the  ice-ridges,  while  Dave  sat  "stiffening"  his 
back,  hugging  the  rifles  and  watching  the  Sioux. 

It  had  already  begun  to  get  dusk  a  little  as  James 
and  his  sled  came  within  shooting  range  of  the  point. 
The  foremost  Indians  had  already  reached  the  extreme 
end  of  the  little  cape,  and  were  jumping  from  their 
ponies  for  a  run  across  the  ice.  James  veered  off 
somewhat ;  but  he  dared  not  go  much  out  of  a  direct 
line  for  Gilmans' ;  for  if  the  Indians  should  once  suc- 
ceed in  getting  between  them  and  the  cabin  of  their 
friends,  there  would  be  no  hope  of  escape. 

The  trapper  was  now  terribly  fatigued ;  )ialf  an  hour 
of  such  tremendous  exertion  was  beginning  to  weary 
his  muscles.  Nevertheless,  he  nerved  himself  for  one 
more  desperate  rush,  and  then,  as  Dave  afterwards 
said,  he  "  went  like  lightning." 

The  growing  darkness  saved  them ;  for  six  or  seven 
of  the  savages  had  left  their  horses  and  got  out  within 
easy  range  as  they  passed  the  point,  and  spreading  out 
in  line  on  the  ice,  began  firing  guns  and  shooting 
arrows  at  them. 

Bullets,  buckshot  and  feathered  shafts  whistled  past 


INDIAN  TALES. 


41 


and  over  them ;  but  they  were  going  swiftly ;  the  twi- 
light favored  them,  and  strange  as  it  may  seem,  they 
got  past  without  a  wound.  . 

The  Indians  did  not  follow  them,  probably  from 
knowing  that  the  other  trappers  were  in  the  woods 
just  ahead.    After  a  few  minutes  more,  Jim  slowed  up 


Bullets,  buckshot  and  feathered  shafts  whistled  past  them. 


to  get  breath ;  for  he  had  nearly  lost  it  entirely  in  his 
last  hard  effort. 

David  was  too  tired  and  "  done  out  in  his  back  "  to 
crow  much  this  time.  The  jolting  and  jerking  of  the 
sled  in  the  roughest  spots  had  been  a  hard  strain  upon 
his  feeble  strength. 

As  they  neared  the  woods,  they  saw  three  figures 


42 


INDIAN  TALES. 


hurrying  out  on  the  ice  to  meet  them.  The  Gilman 
boys  had  heard  the  last  firing,  and  had  rushed  out  to 
see  what  it  meant.  James  panted  forth  his  story  in  a 
few  words.  The  ride  did  not  injure  David.  He  rap- 
idly recovered. 


A  BAD  "MEDICINE  MAN." 

About  ten  years  ago — it  was  the  autumn  of  1877 — 
the  writer,  being  at  that  time  one  of  a  firm  of  con- 
tractors engaged  in  furnishing  hay  and  wood  to  the 
Government  posts  on  the  upper  Missouri,  met  with  an 
adventure  which  may  prove  interesting  to  such  as  like 
accounts  of  personal  encounter  and  peril. 

Upon  referring  to  my  diary  for  that  year,  I  find 
that  on  the  fourteenth  day  of  September,  being  then 
at  Fort  Randall,  I  had  set  off  to  return  to  Yankton. 
I  had  reached  Fort  Randall,  some  time  previously,  on 
one  of  the  freight-steamers  which  brave  the  currents 
and  sand-bars  of  this  most  fickle  of  all  navigable 
rivers,  but  had  failed  to  finish  my  business  there  in 
time  to  catch  the  return  steamer  of  the  Benton  Line; 
and  when,  at  length,  I  was  ready  for  the  journey,  I 
found  that  I  should  not  be  able  to  get  a  boat  down  the 
river  again  for  at  least  three  weeks. 

As  I  could  not  possibly  wait  so  long,  I  went  to  our 
"  wood  camp,"  some  fifteen  miles  above  Fort  Randall, 
and  procured  a  horse  and  saddle  from  one  of  my 
partners  who  had  charge  of  our  working  force 
stationed  at  that  point. 

As  my  home  was  on  the  river,  some  miles  below 
Yankton,  I  had  fully  two  days'  ride  before  me,  and 
there  was  no  agency  nor  post  near  the  end  of  my  first 
day's  ride  ;  consequently  I  should  be  obliged  either  to 
camp  by  myself,  or  spend  the  night  in  the  hut^  or 
tepee,  of  a  Yankton  Sioux. 

43 


44  INDIAN    TALES. 

I  concluded  to  adopt  the  alternative  of  lying  out  by 
myself;  for  I  had  been  inside  a  great  many  Indian 
habitations,  and  had  learned  to  prefer  the  pure  air  of 
the  open  prairie  to  the  odors  of  &4epee,  and  my  own 
cookery  to  that  of  any  squaw.  Indeed,  I  would  not 
have  hesitated  for  a  moment  about  the  matter,  but  for 
the  fact  that,  at  the  time  of  which  I  write,  it  was  not 
(  a  safe  plan  for  a  lone  traveler  to  make  a  night  camp, 
even  among  the  most  reputable  of  the  reservation 
Sioux. 

He  might  sleep  in  their  tepees,  among  their  families, 
with  comparative  safety.  He  could  not  be  made  way 
with  there,  without  incurring  a  risk  which  the  cun- 
ning rascals  well  understood.  But  a  lone  camper, 
sleeping  in  the  woods,  or  on  the  prairie,  was  still  a 
strong  temptation  to  the  enmity  of  the  "  white  man's 
hater,"  as  most  of  the  Sioux  loved  to  call  themselves. 

It  was,  at  this  time,  a  frequent  occurrence  that  spme 
lone  trapper,  or  traveler,  between  the  posts  on  the 
upper  Missouri  was  missing,  and  such  an  one  usually 
was  never  seen  or  heard  from  again 

From  our  wood  camp,  within  three  years,  two  men 
had  disappeared  mysteriously — one  a  trapper,  named 
Bret,  the  other  a  Norwegian  wood-chopper. 

But  such  is  the  hardihood  of  pioneers,  living  amid 
constant  dangers,  that  I  gave  but  slight  heed  to  these 
things;  and  having  procured  a  loaf  of  bread,  some  bacon, 
coffee,  a  small  skillet  and  a  tin  cup,  at  the  wood  canr^, 
I  packed  them  with  my  blankets,  tied  the  bundle  oa 
behind  my  saddle,  and  thus  equipped,  set  out,  with  the 
determination  to  eamp  where  night  should  overtake 
me,  and  to  be  in  Yankton  within  thirty-six  hours. 

The  day  was  exceedingly  warm  for  that  time  of  the 


INDIAN  TALES.  45 

year,  and  I  was  obliged  to  travel  slowly,  the  more  so 
since  my  horse  was  rough-gaited  and  a  poor  traveler. 

At  noon  I  pulled  up  near  the  log  cabin  of  a  Yankton 
Sioux  with  whom  I  happened  to  have  an  acquaintance. 
His  name  was  Kotonka  Washta  (Good  Buffalo),  and, 
for  an  Indian,  he  was  possessed  of  remarkable  intelli- 
gence and  industry.  He  owned  seventy  ponies,  six 
cows,  fourteen  dogs  and  three  squaws ;  and  the  latter 
had  cultivated,  during  the  summer,  a  considerable  field 
of  corn,  pumpkins  and  melons. 

Kotonka  himself  was  not  at  home,  but  from  his 
women  I  bought  a  few  roasting  ears,  picked  from  a  patch 
of  late  sweet  corn,  and  a  couple  of  melons,  which  were 
"  prime  ripe  "  and  luscious. 

The  afternoon  was  hotter  even  than  the  morning; 
the"  air  was  "muggy"  and  at  times  almost  stifling. 
I  could  hardly  spur  my  horse  along  at  any  reasonable 
pace ;  and,  at  last,  after  I  had  made  about  fifteen  miles 
from  Kotonka's  place,  he  became  exhausted  and  refused 
to  go  further. 

It  was  now  about  five  o'clock,  and  I  picked  a  camp- 
ing spot  near  at  hand  and  made  preparations  to  spend 
the  night  there.  The  place  which  I  chose  was  a  little 
knoll  on  the  high  land,  overlooking  the  valley  of  a 
small  creek  which  here  runs  into  the  Missouri. 

It  was  not  in  a  region  that  I  liked  ;  but  I  was  com- 
pelled to  accept  the  situation,  so  I  unsaddled  my 
wretched  horse,  turned  him  loose  for  the  present,  and 
began  to  make  arrangements  for  my  supper.  I  went  to 
rest  early,  thinking  that  if  my  horse  should  prove  able 
to  travel,  I  would  get  up  and  be  off  by  two  or  three 
o'clock  in  the  morning. 

There  were  several  sets  of  old  tepee  stakes  standing 


46  INDIAN  TALES. 

along  the  bank  just  at  the  foot  of  the  knoll ;  and  as  I 
knew  from  past  experience  that  these  were  excellent 
material  for  camp-fires,  I  went  immediately  down  to 
pull  some  of  them  up  for  the  purpose. 

While  doing  so,  my  attention  was  attracted  to  a 
dense  thicket  of  plum-trees,  which  grew  along  the 
creek  below  me,  and  looking  closely,  I  saw  that  the 
tops  of  many  of  them  were  red  with  fruit.  This  was 
an  attraction  not  to  be  resisted;  and  dropping  the 
stakes  which  I  had  pulled,  I  made  my  way  through  the 
copse  of  hazel  brush  and  small  scrub-oak  bushes  which 
grew  on  the  side  hill,  and  soon  found  myself  in  the 
midst  of  the  very  finest  plum-grove  which  I  had  ever 
seen. 

There  were  growing  here  several  varieties  of  the 
wild  plum,  with  red,  yellow,  and  variegated  skins. 
Nearly  all  these  were  now  "  dead  ripe " ;  and  under 
many  of  the  trees  the  ground  was  thickly  strewn  with 
those  that  had  fallen  from  over-ripeness,  or  been 
shaken  off  by  the  wind. 

The  trees  were  tall  for  the  kind,  and  stood  thickly 
together,  completely  shading  the  ground,  which  was 
almost  bare  of  vegetation  beneath  their  boughs. 

I  selected  a  tree  where  the  fruit  upon  the  ground 
best  suited  my  taste,  and  after  giving  it  a  thorough 
shaking,  which  brought  down  a  small  shower  of  large, 
bluish-red  plums,  I  squatted  upon  the  ground,  and  began 
eating  and  filling  my  hat.  This  enjoyable  business 
had  proceeded  for  some  minutes,  and  both  the  hat  and 
my  internal  capacity  had  nearly  all  the  fruit  they 
could  hold,  when  I  suddenly  felt  a  sensation  of  the 
near  presence  of  some  living  thing ! 

I  can  not  describe  the  feeling,  but  there  came  over 


IKDIAN  TALES.  4f 

me  a  warning  sense  of  being  watched  by  human  eyes, 
and  of  being  in  personal  danger.  This  feeling  was  so 
keen  and  alarming,  that  for  a  moment  it  held  me  spell- 
bound, and  I  dared  not  look  to  the  right  or  the  left. 
Almost  unconsciously,  though,  my  right  hand  stole 
back  to  my  hip  and  grasped  the  handle  of  a  Colt 
revolver  (the  only  weapon  which  I  carried)  that  hung 
in  a  sheath  at  my  belt. 

Then  I  glanced  quickly  up— to  the  left — and  found 
myself,  as  I  had  expected  I  should,  looking  squarely 
into  the  malicious  eyes  of  the  ugliest  being  it  was  ever 
my  lot  to  face.  The  visage  was  bedaubed  with  a 
hideous  coat  of  paint,  green  on  the  cheeks  and  lower 
jaws,  with  circles  of  black  under  the  eyes,  and  with 
vermilion  stripes  across  the  forehead. 

The  savage  wore  a  green  blanket  around  his  shoul- 
ders, over  which  peeped  the  horn  of  a  bow  and  top  of 
a  quiver  of  arrows.  He  had  a  black,  slouched,  felt 
hat  on  his  head,  and  a  pair  of  blue  soldier's  trousers 
belted  at  the  waist. 

He  was  standing  not  thirty  feet  distant  from  me, 
partly  concealed  by  the  slim  trunks  of  the  plum-trees, 
and  stood  stock-still  when  I  first  caught  sight  of  him; 
but  I  could  distinguish  his  position  plainly  enough,  to 
see  that  he  had  been  stealing  toward  me  on  tip-toe,  and 
that  his  right  hand  rested  on  the  hilt  of  a  knife  in  his 
belt !    His  eyes  were  like  those  of  snakes. 

I  confess  that  I  was  startled.  He  was  a  Sioux  medi- 
cine man— one  of  a  class  of  as  venomous  wretches  as 
ever  moved  in  human  form. 

But  without  moving  from  my  squatting  position,  I 
whipped  out  my  Colt's  revolver,  and  u  pulled  down  "  on 
hiuo* 


48  INDIAN  TALES. 

"Huhf"  he  grunted,  in  evident  alarm,  and  then 
stepping  out  into  an  open  space,  he  threw  up  both 
hands,  and  exclaimed,  "  No  shoot !  me  heap  friend  I " 

The  scoundrel !  I  knew  better.  As  he  stood  there, 
I  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  trying  to  make  up  my  mind 
whether  I  ought  to  shoot  him  down,  and  avoid  farther 
risk,  or  order  him  off,  and  trust  to  my  wits  to  escape 
the  arrow  which  I  felt  sure  he  would  now  send  through 
my  skin  if  he  was  given  a  chance. 

But  bad  as  he  looked,  and  treacherous  as  I  knew  he 
was,  I  could  not  bring  myself  to  shoot  him. 

"  Go  on ! "  said  I,  at  length,  in  as  savage  a  voice  as  I 
could  command.    "Go!" 

He  walked  past  me,  and  disappeared  among  the 
plum-trees — never  looking  once  to  the  right  Or  left. 

"When  he  was  out  of  sight  I  got  up,  and  backed 
quickly  and  softly  away,  in  the  opposite  direction, 
until  I  had  got  out  of  the  plum  thicket,  when  I 
turned  and  hurried  up  the  hill  through  the  hazel 
brush  and  oak  shrubs.  You  may  be  sure  that  I  kept 
my  eyes  on  alTsides  of  me  as  I  went^-and  I  had  need 
to ;  for  before  I  reached  the  edge  of  the  copse,  that 
painted  rascal  rose  up  from  the  brush  not  fifty  feet 
away,  and  let  fly  an  arrow.  I  saw  him  rise  up  just  in 
time  to  make  a  spring  to  one  side,  but  his  feathered 
shaft  hurtled  by  terribly  close  to  my  body. 

I  had  my  revolver  cocked  in  my  hand,  and  instantly 
returned  a  bullet  for  his  arrow,  as  he  dodged  down 
into  cover  again. 

I  was  a  tolerably  quick  shot  in  those  days,  and  I 
think  I  hurt  him,  for  he  jumped  up  with  a  yell, 
dropped  his  bow,  bounded  zigzag  away  through  the 
bushes,  and  got  out  of  sight  and  range  in  a  remarkably 


INDIAN   TALES.  49 

short  space  of  time.  Yet,  as  he  ran,  I  sent  two  more 
shots  at  him,  but,  of  course,  without  any  certainty  of 
aim.     He  was  out  of  sight  and  reach  in  a  few  seconds. 

I  then  went  back  to  my  packs  and  the  horse  on  the 
knoll,  and  thought  over  the  situation. 

After  reflection,  I  concluded  that  my  falling  in  with 
him  was  probably  a  chance  meeting.  These  medicine 
men  are  very  solitary  in  their  habits,  and  this  one  had 
probably  been  prowling  about  by  himself  after  their 
fashion.  No  doubt  he  had  been  in  the  plum  grove 
there,  and  watched  my  coming  at  his  leisure.  Seeing 
me  busily  occupied  in  filling  my  hat  and  my 
mouth  with  plums,  he  had  determined  to  steal 
up  behind  me,  and  kill  me.  Now  that  I  had 
so  signally  thwarted  him,  he  would  have,t  I  felt 
sure,  a  double  incentive  to  murder  me,  that  I  might 
not  report  him  at  the  forts,  yet  so  confident  did 
I  feel  of  having  hit  him  pretty  hard,  that  I  did  not 
much  fear  his  coming  back.  Nevertheless,  as  soon  as 
I  had  cooked  and  eaten  some  supper,  I  packed  up  and 
started  on  again,  by  the  hazy  moonlight,  determined 
to  move  as  far,  at  least,  as  I  could  get  my  horse  to  go. 

I  crossed  the  creek  at  a  point  considerably  above 
the  plum  thicket,  where  there  was  no  brush,  and 
thence  pushed  my  horse  along  at  a  good  walking  pace 
over  the  rolling  prairie.  The  old  beast  did  better  in 
the  cool  of  night,  and  stood  up  to  his  work  so  well 
that  by  nine  o'clock,  next  morning,  we  got  into 
Yankton.  I  still  have  the  medicine  man's  bow — an 
ash  one  tipped  with  buffalo  horns — as  a  souvenir  of 
Qur  little  fracas  in  the  plum  thicket. 


VI. 

SAVED  BY  A  "JACK."— THE  COW-BOY'S  STORY. 

One  hot  evening  in  the  summer  of  187-  the  writer, 
with  three  other  young  men,  was  camped  on  the  banks 
of  the  South  Platte  river,  some  seventy  miles  above 
the  little  station  of  Julesburg.  We  had  unharnessed 
the  horses  of  our  big  wagon,  and  picketed  them  out  to 
feed  near  the  high  stockade  of  a  solitary  ranch  station. 
Over  the  top  of  the  stockade  posts  the  grass-grown 
roofs  of  several  adobe  cabins  were  visible.  On  the  roof 
of  one  of  these  a  half-grown  antelope  kid  was  indus- 
triously cropping  the  herbage,  and  by  its  side  lay 
another,  serenely  asleep,  its  head  thrown  back  over  its 
shoulder. 

Beyond  the  stockade,  and  adjoining  it,  was  another 
inclosure  of  several  acres,  surrounded  by  a  high  board 
fence ;  a  large  stock  corral,  in  fact,  in  which  several 
ponies  were  standing,  lazily  whisking  away  the  flies, 
evidently  too  much  overcome  by  the  heat  to  make  any 
further  exertion.  These  and  the  antelopes  were  the 
only  signs  of  life  about  the  place. 

"  Guess  this  ranch  takes  care  of  itself,"  remarked  one 
of  our  party,  who,  at  that  moment,  was  attending  to  a 
skillet  of  venison  steak  over  a  fire  of  dry  drift-sticks, 
which  we  had  picked  up  on  the  bank  of  the  river. 
"  Guess  old  Cliff  would  stir  up  these  fellows,  if  he  knew 
they  all  went  off  'n'  left  the  houses  with  a  couple  of 
tame  antelopes  for  guards." 

On  first  halting  for  the  night,  we  had  rattled  at  the 

50 


INDIAN    TALES.  51 

gate  of  the  stockade,  in  the  hope  that  we  might  be  let 
in  and  given  a  chance  for  fresh  water  at  the  well ;  but 
the  gate  was  barred  inside,  and  the  premises  were 
apparently  deserted.  We  rather  wondered  at  that,  for 
we  had  heard  of  this  ranch,  and  knew  it  to  be  oner  of 
the  "  Cattle  King  "  Cliff's  out-posts — a  "  round-up  "  point 
for  the  east  half  of  the  great  range  over  which  his 
thousands  of  cattle  fed,  winter  and  summer. 

But  as  we  sat  down  to  our  supper  of  biscuits,  steak, 
canned  tomatoes,  and  coffee,  we  heard  the  big  gate  of 
the  stockade  squeak  on  its  hinges,  and  a  moment  later 
there  sauntered  out  to  us  a  tall,  strapping  young  fellow, 
in  a  woollen  shirt  and  buckskin  leggins.  He  had  on 
his  head  a  wide-brimmed,  white  wool  hat,  with  red 
leather  band,  and  on  his  feet  high-topped,  high-heeled 
boots,  at  the  counters  of  which  jingled  a  pair  of  Spanish 
spurs. 

There  was  also  a  pair  of  big  "  Colt's "  in  his  belt 
His  woollen  shirt  was  open  in  front,  the  sleeves  were 
rolled  up  to  the  elbows,  and  the  deep  tan-color  of  his 
arms  matched  well  the  bronze  of  breast,  neck  and  face. 
He  had  the  biggest  and  fiercest  of  black  moustaches,  and 
a  pair  of  sharp  black  eyes  to  match  it. 

A  remarkable  figure,  perhaps  the  reader  may  think, 
but  one  that,  with  some  modification  of  form  or  feature, 
will  soon  grow  familiar  to  the  camper  in  the  "  cattle 
country." 

"  Hullo,  fellows ! "  said  this  specimen  cow-boy  as  he 
came  up  and  leaned  his  elbow  upon  the  hind  wheel  of 
our  wagon.   ^ 

"Hullo ! "  said  we ;  and  then,  in  the  short,  suggest- 
i  ve  parlance  of  the  country,  we  asked,  "  Eat  ? " 

"JYou  bet ! "  was  the  cheerful  rejoinder,   and  the 


52  INDIAN  TALES. 

stockman  flung  himself  down  into  the  circle  about  our 
oil-cloth,  was  helped  to  a  pint  cup  of  coffee  and  some 
tomatoes,  and  helpe4  himself  liberally  to  biscuit  and 
fried  antelope. 

(l  Got  nothin'  but  cold  grub  in  the  ranch,"  he  ex- 
plained between  mouthfuls,  "  an'  it's  too  mighty  hot  to 
make  fires  now.  Nobody  here  but  me  ;  boys  gone  up 
on  Lodge  Pole  to  run  in  strays.  Be'n  asleep  all  the 
afternoon.  .Rattled  the  gate,  did  ye?  Wal,  now,  I 
must  be  a  snoozer !  Ouris  what  risks  a  man'll  take  in 
this  country.  Now,  here's  you  fellows  trailin'  about 
all  alone,  the  four  of  ye,  an'  me  here  a-sleepin'  alone  in 
a  'dobe,  an'  six  hundred  Cheyennes  turned  loose  on  the 
country  above ! 

"  Fact,"  he  said,  coolly,  noticing  our  looks  of  surprise, 
not  unmixed  with  alarm.  "  Yes,  sir ;  runner  comr 
down  from  the  ranch  above  'n'  warned  me  yisterday^ 
They've  gutted  one  ranch  up  there,  killed  a  cow-man, 
'n'  run  off  a  lot  o'  stock ;  expect  'em  down  here  any 
time.  A  lot  of  'em  come  down  here  last  year,  and 
caught  us  snoozin',  right  in  broad  day  noon,  too." 

The  reader  may  be  sure  we  were  not  a  little  alarmed 
at  such  news,  though  we  hardly  knew  whether  to  credit 
the  fellow's  words  or  not. 

He  might  be  trying  on  the  cow-boy's  and  miner's 
favorite  pastime — that  of  "  stuffing,"  or  frightening, 
rf  tenderfeet ; "  but  he  gave  us  further  particulars  in  an 
honest,  matter-of-fact  way,  and  after  supper  invited  us 
to  haul  our  wagon  inside  the  stock  corral,  and  to  spend 
the  night  with  him  in  one  of  the  adobes.  So  we  con- 
cluded at  length  that  he  was  acting — as,  indeed,  after- 
ward proved  to  be  the  fact — in  good  faith. 

Having  accepted  his  invitation  to  a  shelter  for  the 


INDIAN   TALE8.  53 

night,  we  were  soon  established  in  one  of  the  long, 
cool  adobes. 

Our  horses  had  been  picketed  as  close  to  the  stockade 
as  the  grazing  limit  would  allow. 

"You'll  have  to  take  the  resk  on  the  stock,  in 
course,"  said  Briggs — he  had  given  us  his  name  in  the 
course  of  our  conversation.  "We  all  have  to  take 
them  resks,  but  I  reckon  there's  no  danger  to  yerselves 
in  here.  The  Cheyennes  caught  us  napping  here  once, 
as  I  was  a-tellin'  ye,  an'  they  won't  calc'late  on  doin'  it 
again. 

u  Tell  ye  about  that,  if  ye  like.  'Twas  kind  o'  scaly 
times  for  Gowan  an'  me,  but  there  was  a  heap  o'  fun 
in  it  too." 

Of  course,  we  were  only  too  glad  to  listen'  to  his 
account. 

"  It  was  jest  about  a  year  ago  now,"  he  said,  "  when 
Ed  Gowan  and  me  was  keepin'  the  ranch  alone,  while 
the  other  three  boys — there's  gener'ly  five  of  us  stays 
here — was  up  river  a-helpin'  brand  a  new  lot  o'  steers 
jest  druv  in  frum  Texas. 

"  There  wasn't  nobody  along  the  river  a-thinkin'  of 
Injun  trouble  then,  an'  as  for  Ed  an'  me,  we  hadn't 
seen  one  for  nigh  a  year.  We  stayed  close  round  the 
ranch  here,  though,  for  a  week  after  the  boys  went  off. 
Then  we  begun  to  feel  mighty  restless. 

"  Then,  too,  we  was  expectin'  the  boys  back  ev'ry 
hour.  We  calc'lated  'twouldn't  be  no  harm  to  leave 
the  ranch  for  a  half  day's  hunt.  We  was  tired  o'  beef 
an'  bacon,  an'  we  knew  where  to  go  to  find  plenty  of 
antelope." 

"  We  saddled  our  ponies,  an'  struck  out  that  afternoon. 
We  rode  up  into  the  '  rock  country,  'bout  twelve  miles 


54r  INDIAN  TALES. 

north  o'  here,  among  the  big  canons  an'  cuts,  an*  we 
found  plenty  of  antelope.  We'd  killed  five  by  dark, 
but  by  the  time  we  could  gather  their  saddles  an'  pack 
our  extra  horses,  which  we'd  took  two,  an'  get  back  to 
the  ranch,  it  was  nigh  daylight  next  morning. 

"  The  boys  hadn't  come,  so,  as  we  was  mighty  tired 
an'  hungry  an'  sleepy,  we  turned  our  ponies  in  with 
the  other  stock  in  the  big  corral,  and  got  us  some 
breakfast ;  then  we  piled  onto  a  couple  of  bunks,  and- 
was  soon  sleepin'. 

"  I  was  woke  up  by  a  punch  in  the  ribs,  an'  when  I'd 
come  to  myself  'nough'  to  get  my  eyes  rubbed  open,  I 
saw  that  there  was  a  half-a-dozen  naked,  greasy  Chey- 
ennes  in  the  room,  standing  around  a-grinnin'  at  us.  I 
saw,  too,  that  Ed  was  awake,  an'  that  they'd  gathered 
up  all  our  shootin'  irons,  an'  that  we  was  both  prisoners, 
in  our  own  shanty. 

"  I  needn't  tell  ye  that  we  both  felt  mighty  foolish 
and  badly  scared,  though  we  put  on  as  bold  a  face  as 
we  could.  Ed  was  the  bravest  though,  and  the  cool- 
est. He'd  ben  a  trapeze  performer  along  with  Mont- 
gomery Queen's  big  show.  He  was  all  muscles  an' 
siners,  up  to  all  sorts  of  tricks,  and  as  spry  as  a  cat. 

"  Wal,  sir,  soon  as  Ed  saw  how  'twas,  he  reached  out 
his  hand  to  the  nearest  buck,  an'  says,  says  'e,  *  How 
do  brudder  ? ' 

"  'How  1 '  says  the  Injun,  an'  all  of  'em  grunted  an' 
grinned. 

"  But  jest  then  there  was  a  terrible  commotion  and 
a-yellin'  '  outside,  an'  two  or  three  of  the  Injuns  rushed 
out.  The  others  wanted -to  see  the  rumpus,  too,  I 
'xpect,  for  they  turned  to  us,  and  motioned  us  out  of 
the  door.     We  got  up,  and  walked  out,  with  an  Injun 


INDIAN   TALES.  55 

in  front  an'  two  behind  us.  As  we  got  out  the  door, 
we  heard  a  frightful  yelhV  outside  the  stockade. 
There  was  six  or  seven  Cheyennesdancin'  and  screechin' 
like  they'd  gone  plum  crazy.  But  the  biggest  fun  was 
what  was  goin'  on  inside  the  stock  corral,  and  we  soon 
saw  that  the  dancin'  bucks  was  a-laughin5,  though  you'd 
never  guess  at  that  by  jest  listenin'  to  'ein. 

"You  see  one  of  their  fellows,  thinkin',  of  course, 
he'd  have  an  easy  job,  had  rode  into  the  corral  to  drive 
out   the  stock — there    was  thirteen  ridin'  ponies  and 


three  or  four  colts.  But  there  was  a  customer  in  there 
that  the  Cheyenne  hadn't  reckoned  on.  It  was  a  big 
jack,  jest  the  ugliest,  orneriest  critter  ever  you  set  eyes 
on.  He  never  'lowed  any  strangers  inside  that  corral 
if  he  could  help  it,  an'  he  gen'ly  could,  an'  that  was 
one  reason  we  kep'  hirar 

"  Wal,  he'd  got  after  Mr.  Cheyenne,  an'  he  was  goin' 
for  him  most  savagely 

"  When  we  first  saw  ihe  race,  the  Injun  was  clear  up 


56  INDIAN   TALES. 

on  his  pony's  neck,  a-clingin'  for  dear  life,  and  the  jack 
was  right  up  alongside,  with  his  jaws  wide  open.  The 
Cheyenne  had  lost  holt  o'  his  reins,  an'  was  jest  hangin' 
over  on  the  opposite  side  of  his  horse's  neck,  and  there 
they  was,  goin'  round  and  round,  the  jack  a-grabbin' 
an'  bitin'  at  the  Injun,  an'  a-brayin'  an'  squealin' till  you 
could  a-heerd  him  a  mile.  An'  the  best  of  it  all  was, 
that  them  Cheyennes  outside  all  seemed  to  think  it  was 
the  biggest  kind  of  fun. 

"  Talk  about  an  Injun's  not  laughin',  why,  fellows, 
they  nigh  busted  their  throats.  They  clapped  their 
hands  onto  their  stomachs,  an'  doubled  up  like  jack- 
knives.  Ed  and  me  laughed,  too.  I  don't  believe  we 
could  'a'  helped  it  if  we'd  known  they'd  kill  us  the  next 
minute. 

"  But  matters  soon  begun  to  get  pretty  ser'ous  inside 
the  corral ;  the  Injun  darsn't  git  off  his  pony,  for  he 
could  see  mighty  plain  that  the  jack  was  after  him. 

"  He'd  'a'  got  the  fellow,  too,  if  his  pony  hadn't  a-ben 
such  a  smart  little  critter;  the  mustang  seemed  to 
know  that  his  master  was  in  danger,  for  he  kept  flying 
right  round  in  a  short  circle,  keepin'  away  from  the 
fence,  and  keepin'  the  jack  on  the  outside  o'  his  circle. 

"  But  the  Injun'  was  awful  scared,  he  couldn't  use  his 
weapons  if  he  had  any,  an'  he  just  hung  on  an'  yelled 
to  the  others,  for  help  I  'xpect,  though,  of  course,  we 
couldn't  understand.  But  it  must  a-ben,  for  pretty 
soon  they  stopped  their  laughin',  an'  all  but  two  that 
was  left  to  guard  us  jumped  on  their  ponies,  rode  into 
the  corral,  an'  with  a  big  whoop  made  a  dash  for  the 
jack. 

"I  didn't  have  time  to  watch  the  outcome  of  it,  for 
all  at  once  I  see  Ed  jump  at  one  of  the  guards,  an; 


INDIAN   TALES.  57 

strike  out.  The  Cheyenne  went  down  like  a  stone,  an' 
before  I  could  gather  my  wits  enough  to  make  a  move, 
he  turned,  sprung  onto  the  other  one,  wrenched  a  "Win- 
chester rifle  out  of  his  hands,  an'  knocked  him  down 
with  it. 

" 1  thought  it  was  time  then  for  me  to  take  a  hand 
in  the  fight,  an'  seein'  the  first  Injun  that  Ed  had  hit 
try  in'  to  git  up  again,  I  made  a  jump  for  him,  an' 
snatched  his  gun  out  of  his  hands ;  it  wasn't  much  of  a 
job,  for  he  was  half  stunned  yet  from  the  rap  Ed  had 
give  him. 

" '  Come  on,  Jim ! '  I  heard  Ed  say  then.  '  Don't 
shoot !  Get  inside  the  gate  ! ' 

"  I  was  glad  enough  to  obey  orders,  I  tell  ye,  an' 
leavin'  the  two  Cheyennes  to  come  to  their  senses,  1 
followed  Ed  at  a  run.  "We  got  inside  the  stockade,  an5 
barred  the  gate,  then  we  run  into  this,  'dobe  here,  an' 
fastened  the  door. 

"'You  bet  they  won't. come  for  us  now,' said  Ed, 
'I'm  fixed  for  'em,  an'  so  are  you  pretty  well,'  an' 
lookin'  at  him  I  saw  he'd  not  only  got  the  last  Injun's 
Winchester,  but  he  took  off  his  belt  of  cartridges,  an' 
brought  that,  too.  I  had  a  Springfield  carbine  in  my 
hands,  so  we  didn't  much  fear  'em. 

"  They  made  an  awful  racket  outside,  but  they  didn't 
fire  a  shot,  an'  pretty  soon  things  quieted  down,  an' 
we  heard  'em  drivin'  off  the  stock. 

"  After  a  while  we  unfastened  the  door,  an'  got  up 
on  top  of  the  'dobe,  an'  then  we  could  see  the  whole 
gang  drivin'  our  ponies  across  the  hills  to  the  north. 

"  'Guess  I  didn't  hurt  those  fellows  much,'  said  Ed, 
'but  look,  they've  made  an  end  of  old  Jack ;'  an'  sure 
enough  we  could  see  him  in  the  corral  chucked  full  of 


58    .  INDIAN   TALES. 

arrows.  They  had  to  kill  him  I  'xpect,  or  he'd  i,  run 
'em  all  out.  The  next  day  the  boys  come  down,  an' 
one  of  the  range  bosses,  an'  I  'expected  we'd  get  the 
bounce  ;  but  when  he  heard  how  'twas,  he  jest  laughed, 
and  sent  for  more  ponies." 

We  stayed  that  night  with  the  young  ranchman,  and 
pushed  on  again  the  next  morning,  but  learned,  on 
reaching  the  ranches  above,  the  day  after,  that  we  had 
narrowly  escaped  a  brush  with  a  large  party  of  Chey- 
enhes.  The}'  had  passed  over  the  trail  not  more  than 
two  hours  ahead  of  us,  on  their  way  south  again,  evi- 
dently fearing  pursuit  from  the  troops  at  Fort  Collins 
and  Cheyenne.  Such  was  life  on  the  plains  but  ten 
years  ago,  where  now  are  large  and  thriving  settle- 
ments, as  safe  from  Indian  raids  as  the  goal  old  city  oi 
Boston. 


vn. 

A  WOMAN'S  BRAVE  EXPLOIT. 

As  early  as  1834  a  few  hardy  pioneers  ventured  to 
build  cabins  upon  the  western  banks  of  the  Upper 
Mississippi,  and  to  move  their  families  into  them.  One 
of  these  bold  men  was  William  Gleason,  who,  with  a 
yoke  of  oxen,  a  cart  containing  household  effects  and 
a  cow,  moved  with  his  young  wife  from  the  lead  mines 
at  Mineral  Point  in  the  spring  of  the  year  mentioned, 
and  settled  at  the  mouth  of  the  Little  Pinnicon  (little 
turkey). 

He  was  attracted  thither  by  the  tales  of  two  young 
trappers  whom  he  had  met  at  the  old  French  town  of 
Prairie  du  Chien,  the  winter  before.  They  told  him 
of  the  black,  rich  land  in  the  valley  of  the  Little  Pin- 
nicon, with  scarce  a  stick  of  timber  in  the  way,  though 
the  bluffs  on  either  hand  were  lined  and  covered  with 
oak,  butternut,  hickory  and  poplar.  Their  stories 
of  bear,  deer,  beaver  and  mink  stirred  his  hunter's 
heart. 

These  young  men — Simpson  Briggs  and  John  Ellery 
— had  marked  out  each  a  squatter's  claim,  and,  not 
intending  to  spend  their  lives  as  mere  trappers  and 
hunters,  wished  to  have  neighbors.  In  the  end, 
Gleason  agreed  to  come,  and '  accordingly  set  a  time 
when,  with  his  wife  and  his  goods,  he  would  be  at 
Prairie  du  Chien,  where  the  young  men  agreed  to  meet 
him. 

True  to  their  word,  Briggs  and  Ellery  were  awaiting 

59 


60  INDIAN   TALES. 

them  in  camp  at  the  "  Prairie  "  when  Gleason  and  his 
wife  arrived.  The  two  trappers  guided  the  settlers  on 
a  three  days'  journey  over  prairies  and  among  wooded 
hills,  and  finally  brought  them,  with  their  effects,  to 
the  bank  of  the  great  river  at  a  point  opposite  the 
mouth  of  Little  Pinnicon. 

Here  a  strong  bateau,  with  mast  and  sail  in  the  bot- 
tom, lay  hidden  among  rocks.  The  enterprising  trap- 
pers had  provided  themselves  with  this  boat  as  a  means 
of  freighting  their  packs  of  deerskins,  buffalo  hides  and 
furs  to  markets  down  the  river.  Its  size  and  strength 
enabled  them  in  two  trips  to  set  the  Gleasons,  with 
their  household  goods  and  stock,  upon  ground  which 
was  henceforth  to  be  their  own. 

There  a  surprise  awaited  the  newcomers.  As  they 
mounted  the  bank  of  the  little  creek  at  the  mouth  of 
which  they  had  landed,  John  Ellery  pointed  to  a  little 
tree-grown  knoll  some  two  hundred  yards  distant. 

"  Yonder's  your  cabin  ready  fer  to  move  in,"  said  he, 
"  an'  thar's  good  water  in  a  spring  down  thar  not  fifty 
steps  f rum  it." 

"  Thar's  room  enough  fer  four,"  said  Gleason,  as,  a 
few  minutes  later,  the  party  surveyed  a  comfortable 
log  structure  with  strong  "  shake"  roof  and  stone  fire- 
place and  chimney. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  young  wife,  gratefully  ;  "  and  it  shall 
be  both  yer  homes  till  ye  bring  wives  of  yer  own  up 
the  river." 

Thus  did  the  generous  and  brave  backwoodsmen  aid 
each  other  in  the  pioneer  work  which  has  laid  the 
foundation  of  populous  states. 

That  evening  the  party  of  four  sat  round  a  rudely 
constructed  table  upon  the  puncheon  floor  of  their  new 


IONIAN  TALES,  51 

home,  and  ate  with  great  contentment  a  supper  of  warm 
biscuit,  broiled  duck  and  coffee.  ,The  next  day,  by 
the  aid  of  the  oxen  and  a  stub  of  a  plow,  a  "single 
breaker,"  a  "  truck  patch  "  was  ploughed,  and  before 
the  sun  set  was  planted  with  seeds  which  had  been 
carefully  hoarded.  A  week  later  more  than  three  acres 
had  been  thoroughly  "  stirred "  .and  planted  to  corn, 
squashes  and  pumpkins. 

A  fine  crop  was  raised  that  year,  bringing  in  autumn 
such  abundant  variety  to  their  table  that  this  little 
band  of  pioneers  felt  themselves  to  be  living  in  the 
very  "  lap  of  luxury."  Of  game — the  house  when  the 
men  were  at  home  was  an  arsenal  of  guns — they  had 
such  abundance  as  three  good  hunters,  with  ample 
opportunities,  could  secure.  Even  Mrs.  Gleason  was 
provided  with  a  gun,  a  short,  flint-lock  fowling-piece, 
which  she  knew  how  to  use,  and  upon  which  she  put 
much  reliance  for  protection  when  the  men  were  all 
away  from  the  cabin. 

Briggs  and  Ellery  were  often  away  upon  trapping 
and  hunting  excursions.  In  September  they  rode  away 
upon  their  ponies  to  the  west  to  shoot  buffalo,  and 
walked  back  at  the  end  of  the  hunt  leading  their  ponies 
heavily  laden  with  hides.  They  had  to  go  only  a  three 
days'  journey  from  the  river,  to  strike  the  Buffalo 
"  range,"  now  dwindled  from  its  former  vast  propor- 
tions to  the  limits  of  the  National  Park  in  Wyoming, 
where  a  straggling  band  of  buffaloes  still  exists,  pro- 
tected by  United  States  soldiers. 

These  isolated  settlers  lived  in  constant  danger,  for 
the  country  all  about  them  was  the  common  hunting- 
ground  of  bands  of  Winnebagoes,  Pottawatomies  and 
Musquakies,  and  occasionally  Sioux.    These  last  were 


62  INDIAN   TALES.       - 

far  more  to  be  dreaded  than  the  others,  as  Black ' 
Hawk's  war  had  given  the  lesser  and  nearer  tribes  a 
wholesome  fear  of  the  soldiers,  stationed  at  various 
posts  throughout  the  region. 

No  Indian  was  trusted,  unless  thoroughly  known  to 
be  the  white  man's  friend,  and  of  the  three  men  living 
at  the  Little  Pinnieon,  one  always  remained  near  the 
cabin.  When  the  trappers  were  away,  Gleason  stayed 
close  at  home,  busying  himself  with  the  building  of 
stables,  yard  and  fence,  or  with  improvements  upon 
the  cabin.  To  the  latter  he  added  in  time  a  bedroom 
for  himself  and  wife,  and  a  general  storage-room  for 
provender  of  all  sorts. 

Flour,  coffee,  sugar  and  other  necessities  were  got  at 
Prairie  du  Chien  by  Briggs  and  Ellery,  who  made  the 
trip  in  their  bateau. 

Early  in  autumn  straggling  bands  of  Indian  hunters 
sometimes  stopped  at  the  Pinnieon  cabin  to  beg  for 
"tobaa"  and  "sug,"  which,  as  the  supplies  were  limi- 
ted, had  to  be  denied  them. 

Winter  came  and  passed  without  incident  to  the  set- 
tlers, save  such  as  their  hunts  afforded.  These  were 
often  stirring  or  amusing,  and  their  recital  served  to 
make  the  evening  pass  pleasantly  before  the  crackling 
back-logs  of  the  fire-place. 

Thus  time  passed  until  "  planting-time  "  came  and 
went,  and  still  the  little  band  remained  unmolested. 
About  the  first  of  June,  Briggs  and  Ellery,  with  the 
bateau  well  loaded  with  the  "  spring  catch,"  set  out  for 
Prairie  du  Chien. 

They  had  been  gone  twelve  days,  and  their  return 
was  momentarily  and  somewhat  anxiously  looked  for 
by  the  Gleasons,  who  were  out  Of  flour  and  some  other 


INDIAN    TALES.         '  63 

necessities.  It  was  on  the  morning  of  this  twelfth  day 
that  Bill,  as  his  wife  and  the  others  called  Gleason, 
came  hurrying  to  the  cabin. 

"Sallie,"  said  he,  with  much  excitement,  "there's  a 
big  band  of  elk  'bout  a  mile  up  creek,  an'  I'm  goin' 
after  'em !    Won't  be  gone  long." 

"  Go  ahead,  Bill,"  said  his  wife.  "  I  can  take  care 
o'  myself  a  few  hours."  He  snatched  down  his  rifle 
from  its  pegs,  and  hurried  out. 

He  had  been  gone  not  much  more  than  an  hour,  when 
a  young  dog  chained  near  the  door  began  to  bark. 
Mrs.  Gleason  looked  out,  and  saw  coming  down  the 
river,  half  a  mile  away,  a  string  of  horsemen  whom 
she  knew  at  once  to  be  Indians. 

She  watched  them  a  moment.  Whether  it  was  the 
manner  in  which  they  rode,  or  the  fact  that  she  was 
alone  that  alarmed  her,  she  did  not  know,  but  accus- 
tomed though  she  was  to  the  lonely  life  of  the  fron- 
tier, she  was  frightened.  She  immediately  shut  and 
bolted  the  door,  and  with  table  and  stools  hastily 
barricaded  the  two  small  openings  which  served  as 
windows,  leaving  a  corner  of  the  one  at  the  front 
open  to  serve  as  a  port-hole.  Then  she  looked  to  her 
gun,  and  freshened  the  priming. 

By  this  time  the  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  had  drawn 
near  the  cabin  and  halted.  Sallie  Gleason's  face  was 
very  pale  at  this  moment,  and  her  hands  trembled, 
yet  she  did  not  hesitate,  gun  in  hand,  to  take  her 
place  at  the  opening  in  the  window. 

She  saw  enough  at  her  first  glance  to  warrant  all 
the  precaution  she  had  taken.  Naked,  hideously 
bedaubed  in  paint  and  evil-eyed,  such  a  villainous- 
looking  lot  of  savages  she  had  never  before  seen. 


64  INDIAN  TALES. 

There  were  seventeen  of  them  drawn  up  in  a  squad  a 
few  yards  distant,  and  they  were  surveying  alter- 
nately the  cabin  and  the  growling  dog. 

The  Indians  were  armed  with  bows  and  arrows  and 
lances,  with  but  two  guns  in  the  crowd.  Mrs.  Glea- 
son  saw  at  once  that  they  were  Sioux.  Standing  far 
enough  back  in  the  darkened  cabin  to  prevent  them 
from  seeing  her,  she  looked  through  her  port-hole 
directly  into  the  eyes  of  these  dangerous  visitors. 

For  a  few  moments  they  sat  their  ponies  silently, 
giving  no  hostile  sign.  Presently  one  of,  them,  with  a 
guttural  word  of  command,  turned  his  animal's  head 
and  with  a  vicious  cut  of  his  quirt  setoff  at  a  gallop, 
and  the  whole  troop  followed  him. 

Sallie  Gleason  breathed  more  freely  as  she  watched 
the  galloping  squad  cross  the  creek  and  ride  out  of 
sight  beyond  a  point  of  bluff  some  half-mile  below. 
She  thought  of  her  husband,  and  felt  certain  he  was 
not  in  the  direction  they  had  taken.  She  opened  the 
door  and  windows  and  resumed  her  household  occu- 
pations, but  kept  a  sharp  watch  in  all  directions. 

Several  hours  passed  with  no  incident  to  arouse  her 
fears  afresh.  At  noon  she  made  preparations  for 
dinner,  expecting  Bill  soon  to  return.  Then  she  took 
a  pail  and  started  for  the  spring  for  water. 

She  reached  the  top  of  the  gully  through  which  the 
little  creek  ran,  and  was  about  to  descend  to  the  spring 
when  she  saw  something  near  the  mouth  of  the  gulch 
that  gave  her  instant  alarm.  It  was  a  single  feather 
dyed  red,  projecting  above  the  ridge  of  a  clay  bank 
that  marked  a  turn  of  the  creek's  channel. 

She  had  seen  that  feather  three  hours  before  and 
remembered  it.     It  slowly  disappeared.    She  turned 


INDIAN  TALES'  OO 

about  and  hurried  back  to  the  cabin,  expecting  every 
moment  to  hear  the  Indian  yell  and  feel  an  arrow 
pierce  her  body.  But  nothing  further  occurred  to 
alarm  her  then  and  she  reached  the  cabin  in  safety. 

Once  more  she  barred  all  entrances  and  prepared 
to  defend  herself  to  the  last.  She  understood  now, 
she  thought,  why  the  treacherous  fellows  had  rid- 
den away  so  unconcernedly.  They  had  intended  the 
action  for  a  blind.  After  riding  out  of  sight  they  had 
dismounted  and  having  slunk  back  under  shelter  of  the 
river-bank  had  entered  the  bed  of  the  creek  where  they 
were  now  lying  in  wait  for  a  chance  to  shoot  down  the 
inmates  of  the  cabin. 

That  the  Indians  had  not  killed  her  when  they  had 
the  opportunity  was  a  source  of  thankful  wonder.  It 
could  not  be,  she  believed,  that  they  had  not  seen  her, 
but  they  must  have  thought  themselves  undiscovered. 
Thus  she  speculated  in  fear  and  excitement. 

Through  an  opening  in  the  front  window  her  eye 
took  in  the  broad  expanse  of  the  Mississippi  beyond 
the  ambush  of  the  savages.  Suddenly  there  came  into 
view,  not  a  mile  distant,  the  well-known  sail  of  the 
bateau. 

Her  first  feeling  was  one  of  delight ;  but  almost 
instantly  the  true  situation  flashed  upon  her  and  she 
realized  the  purpose  of  the  ambush.  A  deadly  fear 
for  her  trapper  friends  seized  upon  the  brave  woman's 
mind. 

She  saw  it  all  now.  The  Indians  had  discovered 
that  sail  away  down  the  river,  and  knowing  where  the 
boat  would  land  they  had,  after  their  cunning  and 
treacherous  fashion,  stolen  back  to  lie  in  ambush  for 
the  unsuspecting  boatmen.    She  had  not  been  seen  on 


66  INDIAN  TALES. 

her  excursion  to  the  spring  because  the  Indians  were 
intent  upon  other  victims. 

She  kept  her  eyes  on  the  boat ;"  it  was  coming 
slowly  on  with  a  light  breeze  in  its  favor;  the  boys 
seemed  to  be  plying  the  oars  lazily. 

What  could  be  done  to  warn  them?  It  would  be 
certain  death  to  her  to  go  outside  and  make  any  move- 
ment likely  to  attract  their  attention.  Even  if  they 
saw  or  heard  her,  they  might  well  fancy  her  to  be 
merely  greeting  their  return. 

Then  she  thought  of  the  "Wild  Goose  Bar,"  and  a 
plan  of  action  came  like  an  inspiration.  The  Wild 
Goose  Bar  was  a  drift  of  sand  which  extended  into 
the  river  from  a  point  several  hundred  yards  above  the 
mouth  of  the  creek.  It  connected  with  a  small  island, 
or  rather  peninsula,  about  a  hundred  yards  from  shore. 
The  geese  in  their  autumn  flight  often  alighted  upon  it 
at  night  in  great  numbers,  and  this  had  given  this 
sand-bar  its  name.  ^ 

From  the  lay  of  the  ground  back  of  the  cabin-knoll, 
Sallie  knew  that  she  Could  reach  a  point  very  near  to 
the  bar  without  being  seen.  If  she  might  but  safely 
run  the  gauntlet  of  the  sand  stretch  to  the  covert  of 
the  willows  upon  the  island,  she  would  be  able  to  warn 
the  coming  boatmen. 

There  was  no  time  to  lose.  By  the  time  she  could 
reach  the  island  the  bateau  would  be  close  at  hand. 
She  opened  the  back  window  and,  gun  in  hand, 
crawled  through  and  ran  down  the  side  of  the  knoll 
into  a  little  "  swale  "  which  extended  for  some  distance 
parallel  with  the  river's  bank.  Once  on  this  low 
ground  she  bent  forward  so  as  to  keep  her  head  out  of 
sight  and  hurried  up  to  a  point  which  she  knew  must 


INDIAN  TALES.  67 

be  about  opposite  the  sand-bar.  Then  boldly  rising 
upright  she  ran  swiftly  across  the  intervening  ground 
to  the  river-bank  and  slid  down  its  steep  side  to  the 
foot  of  the  bar. 

The  keen  eyes  of  the  Indians  had  seen  her  at  last. 
They  guessed  her  purpose  and  set  up  a  howl  like  the 
cry  of  a  pack  of  wolves.  Looking  aside  in  her  flight 
along  the  bar  she  saw  them  emerge,  a  yelling  swarm, 
from  the  creek-bed,  and  give  swift  chase  up  the  bank 
of  the  river. 

They  shot  arrows  at  her  as  she  ran,  but  the  range  at 
first  was  too  great,  and  the  shafts  fell  in  the  water  or 
stuck  lightly  in  the  sand  behind  her.  Oddly  enough 
she  thought  of  the  scores  of  wild  geese  that  had  been 
fired  upon  from  the  bank  and  killed  upon  the  sands 
over  which  she  was  fleeing. 

That  hundred  yards  seemed  a  long  distance.  The 
Indians  gained  swiftly  upon  her  and  before  she  could 
reach  the  island  their  arrows  began  to  whiz  spitefully 
past.  She  would  certainly  have  lost  her  life  had  not 
the  boatmen,  who  were  rapidly  drawing  near,  opened 
fire  at  this  critical  moment.  Their  long-range  rifles 
scattered  the  Indians  and  sent  them  instantly  flying. 

Sallie  had  just  breath  left  to  note  that  there  were 
more  than  two  men  in  the  bateau,  and  then  she  fell 
exhausted  and  fainting  upon  the  wet  sand  at  the  edge 
of  the  island. 

When  she  became  conscious,  Briggs  and  Ellery  were 
kneeling  by  her,  one  on  either  side,  fanning  her  with 
their  hats.  Her  clothing  and  hair  were  drenched  with 
the  water  they  had  thrown  in  her  face  to  revive  her. 

-Looking  up,  Sallie  saw  two  tall  strangers  leaning  on 
their  guns  and  looking  upon  her  with  sympathy  and 


INMAN   TALES. 


interest.  They  now  came  forward  and  each  in  his 
rough  way — for  they,  too,  were  frontiersmen — uttered 
expressions  of  grateful  admiration,  mingled  with  not  a 
little  wonder,  at  the  feat  she  had  performed. 

"When  G  leason  returned  and  the  story  was  repeated 
to  him,  he  said,  simply,  but  with  wet  eyes :  "  Ye're  a 
brave  woman,  Sallie,  but  I'll  never  leave  ye  alone  agin3 
so  long's  thar's  danger  from  Injuns." 

That  night  John  Ellery  set  out  for  Prairie  du  Chien 
in  a  canoe,  and  a  few  days  later  a  squad  of  cavalry 
scoured  the  region  in  search  of  the  Sioux.  They  did 
not  find  the  Indians,'  who  no  doubt  knew  of  their  pres- 
ence and  mission,  for  the  settlers  at  Little  Pinnicon 
saw  no  more  hostile  bands. 

The  strangers  who  had  come  with  Briggs  and 
Ellery  were  men  with  families,  true  pioneers  in  search 
of  fresh  lands.  They  were  so  well  pleased  with  the 
Pinnicon  Valley  that  they  marked  claims  adjoining 
the  others,  and  each  brought  a  wife  and  children  into 
the  "  Little  Pinnicon  settlement." 


vm. 

IN  THl  SIOUX-COUNTRY  IN  IS. 

(From  an  Old  Diary.) 

On  the  night  of  the  13th  of  July,  1875,  the  writer 
left  the  neighborhood  of  Ft.  Laramie,  W.  T.,  in  com- 
pany with  thirty-four  others,  enroute for  the  Black  Hills 
of  Dakota. 

We  left  the  region  of  the  Fort "  between  two  days,  "as 
they  say  out  West  of  those  who,  for  any  cause,  get  out  of 
a  neighborhood  by  stealth.  For  nearly  two  weeks  we 
had  been  in  camp  on  the  bank  of  the  Laramie  river, 
under  strict  surveillance  of  a  sergeant's  guard,  when, 
for  some  reason,  the  patrol  failed  to  put  in  an  appear- 
ance on  the  night  mentioned,  and  at  midnight  we 
struck  camp,  hitched  to  our  wagons,  and  "  rolled  "  up 
the  Platte. 

We  traveled  hard  until  nine  o'clock  the  next  morn- 
ing, when  we  drew  into  a  sheltered  cotton-wood  grove 
and  hid  for  the  day.  Just  before  noon  a  sergeant's 
squad  of  fifteen  cavalry-men  rode  by  at  a  gallop  on  the 
look-out  for  us,  at  least  ostensibly  so,  for  there  was 
little  doubt  in  our  minds  that  they  saw  our  wagon- 
tracks  leading  away  from  the  freight  trail,  and  pur- 
posely shut  their  eyes  to  them 

Instructions  from  Washington  made  it  necessary  for 
the  commandant  at  the  post  to  halt  all  northern  bound 
out-fits  at  the  Platte,  allowing  none  to  cross  over  until 
the  Government's  commissioners  should  gain  possession 
of  the  Black-Hills  portion  of  the   Sioux  Keserve  by 

69 


70  INDIAN   TALES. 

treaty  with  all  the  tribes  concerned  ;  but  when  soldiers 
were  sent  out  after  trespassers  who  had  escaped  across 
the  frontier  of  the  reservation,  they  were  usually  not 
very  anxious  to  bring  them  in. 

The  next  day  we  swam  our  stock  across  the  Platte, 
which  was  too  deep  at  that  season  to  ford — and  rafted 
our  wagons  and  effects,  which  consisted  of  .mining- 
tools  and  "  grub,"  mostly — on  a  raft  made  of  five  dry 
cotton- wood  logs.  It  took  the  whole  of  day-light  to 
get  the  eight  wagons  and  their  loads  across,  and  we 
camped  that  night  upon  the  extreme  edge  of  the  Indian 
lands. 

In  the  morning  our  motley  crowd  gathered  in  front 
of  one  of  the  wagons,  and  we  organized  to  pass  through 
the  country  in  military  fashion.  A  French  Canadian, 
an  old  plainsman,  named  Michaud,  who  talked  plain 
English,  was  chosen  captain,  and  an  uncle  of  the  writer, 
who  was  a  veteran  of  the  Rebellion,  selected  as  second 
in  command.  There  were  several  old  miners  from  Col- 
orado and  California,  some  citizens  of  Cheyenne,  three 
buffalo  hunters,  a  Spaniard  from  the  City  of  Mexico,  a 
New  Mexican  "Greaser,"  and  "pilgrims"  from  the 
States,  among  whom  the  writer  was  youngest. 

That  day  we  moved  over  the  rough,  barren  hills 
which  lay  between  the  Platte  and  Raw-hide  Butte,  past 
"Bridger's  Hole,"  a  famous  rendezvous  of  the  old-time 
trappers,  which  Michaud  pointed  out  to  us.  As  we 
moved  forward  we  presented  quite  a  military  appear- 
ance; marching  on  either  side  of  the  wagons,  with 
shouldered  guns,  were  the  members  of  our  party  not 
employed  in  driving  or  as  scouts.  Two  horsemen  rode 
several  yards  in  advance  upon  the  only  saddle-animals 


INDIAN   TALES.  •  71 

we  had ;  two  on  foot  also  kept  pace  with  the  wagons  at 
some  distance  on  either  hand. 

At  night  a  guard  was  stationed  on  four  sides  of  the 
camp,  outside  the  circle  in  which  our  animals  were 
picketed,  for  we  were  upon  exceedingly  dangerous 
ground."  Both  Sitting  Bull's  and  Spotted  Tail's  young 
men  had  cut  loose  from  the  agencies,  as  we  had  learned 
at  the  fort,  and  we  were  likely  at  any  moment  to  be 
"  jumped  "  by  a  strong  party  of  them. 

On  the  third  day  out  from  the  river,  just  as  our  small 
train  had  entered  a  valley  between  two  stretches  of 
high,  rough  hills  near  the  head  of  White  River,  the 
scout  upon  our  left,  some  two  or  three  hundred  yards 
away,  came  running  down  the  hill-side  at  the  top  of  his 
speed,  shouting,  "  Injuns  \  Injuns !  Corral  the  wagons ! 
Corral  the  wagons ! " 

There  was  a  general  hustling  toward  the  wagons  of 
the  other  out-riders  and  scouts  at  the  same  moment, 
and  in  almost  less  time  than  it  takes  to  tell  it  our 
wagons  were  drawn  up  into  a  circle — each  team  shel- 
tered by  the  wagon  ahead  of  it— and  our  little  force, 
bristling  with  arms,  gathered  in  an  excited  crowd 
within  the  corral  thus  made. 

No  Indians  were  in  sight  as  yet  -and  the  scout  who 
had  given  the  alarm  was  telling  that  he  had  caught 
sight  of  "  a  hull  raft  uv'  em  dodgin'  'mong  the  rocks  up 
yander,"  when  suddenly,  above  the  tops  of  some  of  those 
same  rocks  were  seen  a  number  of  signal  flags  and  hats 
in  motion.  This  was  plainly  an  indication  of  str  desire 
to  hold  communication  with  us. 

Our  "Greaser"  now  came  forward,  and  made  it 
known  to  Captain  Michaud  that  he  could  speak  the 
Sioux  tongue,  as  he  had  lived  for  several  years  among 


72  INDIAN  TALES. 

the  Cheyenne  Sioux,  and  offered  to  go  up  to  the  buttes 
and  talk  with  the  Indians.  He  was,  of  course,  told  to 
go,  and  a  few  minutes  later,  as  he  mounted  the  steep 
bluffs,  we  saw  a  number  of  nimble  fellows  scramble 
down  from  a  ledge  of  rock  and  seat  themselves  in  a 
circle  about  "  John, "  as  we  called  the  New  Mexican. 

They  talked  busily  for  some  time,  the  Indians  gestur- 
ing in  an  animated  fashion,  then  all  arose  and  passed 
out  of  sight  behind  the  point  of  rocks  which  the 
Indians  had  descended. 

We  waited  impatiently  for  some  time,  when  about 
twenty  horsemen  came  in  sight  and  rode  down  toward 
us,  the  "  Greaser  "  with  them*  They  came  within  a 
hundred  yards  or  so,  then  halted,  and  John  rode  down 
to  us  on  one  of  their  ponies. 

In  answer  to  anxious  inquiries,  he  said  that  there 
were  at  least  one  hundred  and  fifty  of  Sitting  Bull's 
and  Spotted  Tail's  young  bucks  over  on  the  other  side 
of  the  buttes,  and  that  they  wanted  (and  I  fancy  now 
there  was  "  an  uncommon  want  in  their  tone  ")  to  know 
what  we  were  doing  upon  Indian  lands.  The  head 
chief,  John  said,  would  like  to  come  down  and  hold  a 
talk  with  the  "  head  man  "  of  our  party. 

Captain  Michaud  sent  John  back  to  tell  them  that 
the  party  who  had  come  with  him  could  advance  and 
he  would  talk  with  them,  but  that  no  others  must  come 
any  nearer,  or  we  should  fire  upon  them. 

It  was  a  wild-looking  and  gaudily  bedecked  lot  of 
fellows  who  rode  down  and  dismounted  in  front  of  us. 
They  were  togged  out  in  bright-colored  calicoes  and 
beaded  buck-skin ;  their  faces  were  hideously  daubed 
in  paints — yellow,  green,  black  and  vermilion. 

They  wore  belts  of  cartridges  around  their  waists 


INDIAN  TALES.  73 

and  over  their  shoulders,  and  were  armed  with  Win- 
chesters and  needle  guns ;  altogether  I  think  they  were 
the  fanciest  lot  of  redskins,  and  the  most  formidable 
in  appearance,  that  I  have  ever  seen.  They  flung 
themselves  off  their  ponies,  dropping  the  reins  in  front 
of  each  animal,  and  then  seated  themselves  in  a  semi- 
circle ajfew  yards  in  front  of  our  corral.  "We  noted, 
uneasily  enough,  that  there  were  a  swarm  of  others  up 
among  the  hills  looking  on  with  interest. 

Those  immediately  before  us,  however,  indicated 
their  peaceful  intentions  by  producing  and  filling  a 
long  peace-pipe,  and  after  each  buck  had  taken  a 
whiff  and  blown  it  out  through  his  nose,  this  pipe  was 
proffered  to  our  captain  by  the  chief.  But  Michaud, 
who  had  advanced  with  the  interpreter  and  stood  con- 
fronting them,  stepped  back,  dignifiedly  folded  his 
arms,  and  told  John  to  say  to  the  chief  of  the  Sioux 
that  he  considered  himself  a  much  greater  man  than 
any  before  him  and  the  pipe  should  have  been  pre- 
sented to  him  before  any  of  them  had  touched  lip  to  it. 

I  have  never  seen  so  hideous  an  expression  as  came 
over  the  face  of  the  chief  as  the  interpreter  repeated 
Michaud's  words  in  Sioux.  He  threw  the  pipe  upon 
the  ground  and,  amid  the  grunts  and  black  looks  of  his 
warriors,  began  a  haranguing,  in  which,  according  to 
John's  interpretation,  he  charged  us  with  coming  upon 
the  Indian  lands  to  steal  them  away  from  their  right- 
ful owners ;  they  ( the  Indians )  knew  where  we  were 
going,  he  said,  but  we  could  never  get  there,  as  the 
oountry  in  front  of  us  was  so  rough  and  broken  that 
no  wagons  could  pass  through  it,  and  he  illustrated 
this  by  waving  his  hands  up  and  down  to  show  the 
hilly  nature  of  the  region,  and  swayed  his  body  side- 


74  INDIAN    TALES. 

wise  to  indicate  the  tipping  over  of  our  wagons.  He 
then  further  declared  that  the  Indians  would  not  let 
us  go  among  the  mountains  to  seek  the  yellow  dirt, 
but  would  attack  us  and  no  doubt  kill  us  all  if  we 
attempted  it. 

This  was  the  substance  of  John's  interpretation, 
though  the  harangue  was  drawn  out  at  much  greater 
length,  and  if  we  could  judge  by  the  grunts  of 
approval  with  which  the  surrounding  braves  greeted 
almost  every  sentence,  the  speech  must  have  been  a 
very  good  specimen  of  Indian  oratory. 

Michaud's  reply  was  brief  and  characteristic  of  all 
we  had  known  or  afterward  learned  of  the  man. 

"  Tell  them,"  said  he  to  John,  "  to  jump  their  hosses 
an'  git,  an'  to  go  mighty  quick,  too ! " 

There  was  a  chorus  of  angry  "  Huh's "  as  the 
Indians  scrambled  to  their  feet  and  sprang  upon  their 
ponies  again.  They  scurried  away,  though,  evidently 
thinking  that  after  such  threats  as  their  chief  had 
made  had  failed  to  intimidate  us,  we  must  be  deter- 
mined customers.  In  three  minutes  there  was  not  a 
Sioux  in  sight. 

They  all  disappeared  behind  the  buttes  in  a  twink- 
ling, and  then  we  held  a  council  of  war  in  which  it 
was  admitted  by  the  older  frontiersmen  that  our  expe- 
dition was  one  of  extreme  danger,  and  that  our 
chances  of  getting  through  with  whole  skins  were,  to 
say  the  least,  not  more  than  even.  Some  of  the  party 
were  badly  frightened  and  wanted  the  whole  outfit  to 
set  out  at  once  upon  the  return.  Michaud,  however, 
quickly  put  an  end  to  that  project  by  declaring  that  a 
retreat  would  bring  the  whole  swarm  upon  our  heels  at 
once.     We  had  faced  just  this  danger,  he  said,  from 


INDIAN   TALES.  75 

the  moment  we  had  crossed  the  Platte  river  and  ought 
to  have  expected  to  meet  Indians,  and  it  would  look 
extremely  silly  in  us  to  run  at  first  sight  of  them. 
The  only  thing  to  do  was  to  move  right  on,  using  the 
same  precautions  as  before. 

The  timid  ones  were  silenced  and  we  moved  on. 
That  night  we  camped  upon  a  high  bench  of  land,  and 
when  it  came  on  dark  we  discovered  signal  fires  burn- 
ing upon  three  butter  in  as  many  directions.  Appear- 
ances were  so  alarming  that  we  dug  rifle-pits  around 
inside  our  wagon-corral.  I  remember  that  my  turn  to 
go  on  guard,  with  three  others,  came  that  night  from 
nine  o'clock  till  twelve.  I  probably  experienced  as 
many  sensations  of  awful  lonesomeness  and  fear  as 
any  young  fellow  of  nineteen,  new  to  the  situation, 
would  be  capable  of.  The  memory  of  those  three 
hours  is  yet  vivid. 

Morning  came,  however,  with  no  further  sign  of  Indi- 
ans, though  the  signal  fires  were  visible  during  most 
of  the  night.  We  traveled  again  until  noon  over  a  rough 
country,  meeting  with  no  incident  of  note.  But  during 
the  noon  camp,  John,  our  Greaser,  left  us  and  went 
out  among  some  hills  a  half-mile  distant,  and  did  not 
return  until  we  were  hitching  up  for  a  start.  When 
asked  if  had  seen  anything  of  the  Indians  he  shook  his 
head,  and  when  pressed  as  to  whether  he  thought  they 
were  following  us,  he  said,  "  Mebbe  so,  mebbe  not."  It 
was  noticed  by  those  nearest  him  that  he  was  particu- 
larly silent  and  taciturn  all  that  afternoon,  though 
they  paid  no  great  heed  to  his  mood.  But  at  night 
when  he  drove  his  team  out  fully  three  hundred  yards 
from  the  usual  corral,  and  camped  by  himself,  our  sus- 
picions were  fully  aroused. 


76  INDIAN  TALES. 

He  had  taken  no  part  in  our  organization  at  Ft.  Lar- 
amie, and  his  name  was  not  on  the  role  for  guard 
relief,  and  as  he  had  never  been  taken  into  our  councils, 
Michaud  did  not  interfere  with  his  movements.  Dur- 
ing the  evening,  however,  a  number^bi  the  men  went 
out  to  see  him  and  find  out,  if  possible,  his  motive  in 
camping  off  by  himself.  They  found  one  of  his  horses 
tied  to  the  wagon ;  John  had  taken  the  other  and 
gone.  They  waited  an  hour  or  more;  he  did  not 
return  and  they  came  back  to  camp  and  reported,  and 
for  the  next  hour  our  party  gave  themselves  to  surmis- 
ings  and  speculations.  Some  declared  the  Greaser  was 
"  in  cahoots  "  with  the  Sioux,  while  others  only  feared 
that  might  be  the  case,  and  were  willing  to  admit  that 
John  might  possibly  be  on  the  lookout  for  our  inter- 
ests, as  it  was  plainly  clear  that  he  had  nothing  to  fear 
on  his  own  account. 

Captain  Michaud  was  ready  to  give  the  New  Mexican 
the  benefit  of  a  doubt,  as  was  also  our  lieutenant,  and 
it  was  agreed  that  an  extra  guard  should  be  stationed 
near  enough  John's  wagon  to  report  the  hour  of  his 
coming  in  and  any  developments  which  might  follow. 

Morning  came,  and  still  the  Greaser's  horse  and 
wagon  stood  out  there  on  the  prairie  with  no  sign  of 
their  owner.  The  guard  picketed  out  the  animal 
where  it  could  graze,  and  we  moved  on  after  breakfast, 
leaving  both  wagon  and  horse. 

Night,  or  rather  evening,  found  us  upon  the  edge  of 
a  high  plateau  overlooking  the  Cheyenne  valley,  with 
our  goal,  the  Black  Hills  of  Dakota,  plainly  in  view, 
and  a  stretch  of  rough  "  breaks  "  dropping  away  in  front 
of  us.  We  were  just  about  entering  at  the  head  of  a  tor- 
tuous canon  which  had  been  explored  and  found  passa- 


INDIAN   TALES.  77 

ble  by  an  advance  scout.  We  had  to  get  down  into  it 
and  camp,  or  go  without  water  for  our  stock  for  that 
night,  but  as  the  foremost  teams  were  driving  down  a 
steep  pitch  which  lead  into  the  gulch,  a  shout  was 
raised  behind  which  brought  the  whole  outfit  to  a  halt. 
i€  Hold  upj  Hold  up  in  front !  Th'  Greaser's  a-comin' 
on  hossback,  comin'  like  th'  wind  !  Wait'n  see  what's 
up ! "    r 

Those  of  us  on  the  rise  looked  behind,  and  sure 
enough  there  came  John,  whom  we  knew  by  his  white 
horse,  riding  at  the  top  of  his  animal's  speed,  and 
swinging  his  old  sombrero  violently  back  and  forth. 
He  pulled  up,  however,  when  he  saw  that  we  had 
halted  and  were  waiting,  and  came  in  among  us  at  a 
trot.     Shouts  greeted  him  from  all  sides. 

"What's  th'  matter,  John?  Where's  yer  other 
boss  'n'  wagon  ?  " 

"  Eenjun  gitta  ivsa  hoss  an5  wagn,"  he  replied,  as  he 
dismounted  and  rubbed  his  animal's  steaming  neck  and 
shoulders.  "  Eenjun  gitta  me  too,  boota  he  no  keep ; 
plenty  Eenjun  een  el  aroyo,  de  canyon ! "  and  he  swept 
one  hand  toward  the  yawning  gulch  in  front  of  us. 

Incredulous  and  suspicious  looks  were  exchanged 
upon  this  announcement  which  did  not,  to  most  of  us 
at  least,  seem  at  all  likely,  as  our  scout  had  just 
returned  from  the  canyon  and  had  reported  the  coast 
clear.  We  looked  down  over  the  barren  breaks  and 
there  was  no  sign  of  life  of  any  kind  save  a  scanty 
growth  of  buffalo  grass  and  scattering  pine  shrub.  But 
Michaud  came  forward  and  asked  John  how  he  knew 
the  Indians  were  in  the  canyon. 

His  reply  in  broken  English  was  very  brief.  He  had 
gone  out  among  the  Sioux  last  night  he  said,  and  they 


78  INDIAN   TALES. 

had  proposed  to  him.  to  join  them  in  an  attack  upon 
the  whites  when  their  wagons  should  attempt  to  pass 
through  the  broken  hills  of  the  Cheyenne.  They  had 
detailed  their  plan,  and  when  they  found  he  would  not 
join  them,  had  made  him  a  temporary  prisoner,  and 
had  placed  an  Indian  as  guard  over  him  who  was  to 
release  him  at  sundown;  he  escaped  during  the  after- 
noon, he  would  not  say  how,  and  had  ridden  hard  to 
overtake  us.  He  had  made  enemies  of  his  friends,  he 
said,  and  the  Indians  would  capture  his  wagon  and 
other  horse  and  kill  himself  if  they  ever  got  a  chance. 

All  the  time  he  was  talking,  our  captain  looked  him 
steadily  and  sharply  in  the  eyes,  but  John  bore  the 
scrutiny  with  composure,  adding  to  his  information 
that  in  order  for  our  party  to  get  safely  through  the 
breaks  it  would  be  necessary  to  drive  further  down  the 
"llano,"  where  he  knew  of  a  long  ridge  which  we 
could  descend  with  the  wagons  without  danger  of  sur- 
prises, as  there  were  no  "  aroyos  "  near  enough  for  the 
Indians  to  fire  from. 

Satisfied  of  the  truth  of  John's  account,  Michaud 
ordered  back  the  wagons  which  stood  with  locked 
wheels  upon  the  side-hill  below.  As  the  teamsters 
circled  about  and  drove  up  again  toward  the  top,  there 
broke  out  away  down  among  the  gulches  a  long-drawn 
chorus  of  shrill  yells  which  set  everybody  in  the  outfit 
agape  and  staring! 

The  sounds  died  away  in  a  wail  while  we  were  gaping 
for  a  sight  of  the  screeching  red-skins,  for  such  we 
could  not  doubt  they  were  who  made  them.  But  that 
was  all ;  not  an  Indian  could  we  see  nor  did  we  hear 
any  sound  mora  than  this  one  outbreak  of  rage  and 
disappointment,  attributable,  undoubtedly,  to  their  di»» 


INDIAN  TALES. 


79 


covery  of  John's  appearance  among  us,  and  the  knowl- 
edge  that  we  were  now  fully  on  our  guard  against  any 
attack  they  could  make  upon  us. 

"  Queer  varmints  them  Injuns ! "  said  Michaud,  at 
length.  "  Boys,  this  Greaser's  saved  our  bacon  sure  j 
we'll  follow  where  he  leads  now." 

I  remember  that  a  grim  smile,  or  rather  grin,  came 
over  the  dark,  wrinkled  features  of  the  New  Mexican 
at  this  and  his  small  shrewd  eyes  twinkled  with  satis- 
faction. "We  did  follow  him  after  that  until  three  days 
later  we  arrived  safely  at  Camp  Custer  on  French 
creek,  whither  a  few  venturesome  miners  had  preceded 
us.  Here  we  managed  to  raise  a  sum  of  money  for 
John,  which  paid  him  in  part,  at  least,  for  the  loss  of 
his  wagon  and  horse  so  freely  sacrificed  to  save  our 
lives. 

Eleven  days  later,  Colonel  Benteen,  with  a  detach- 
ment of  United  States  cavalry,  captured  the  whole  lot 
of  us  and  escorted  us  across  the  Missouri,  where  we 
were  very  rightly  told  to  remain  until  the  Government 
should  acquire  a  clear  title  to  the  lands  we  had 
trespassed  upon. 


IX. 

SEQUAPAH. 

The  following  story  of  early  adventure  in  one  part 
of  the  Northwest  is  told  by  old  Mr.  Morgan  Apleigh, 
an  old  farmer,  who  was  one  of  the  first  settlers  of  the 
lower  Des  Moines  Yalley.  He  was  a  hoy  when  he 
moved  to  Iowa,  in  1836.  During  the  next  twenty 
years  he  made  many  hunting  and  trapping  excursions 
to  the  North  and  West,  in  search  of  fur  and  peltry, 
and  sometimes  went  either  alone  or  with  companions 
four  or  five  hundred  miles  into  the  great  wilderness 
which  stretched  away  on  every  side  but  one,  and 
which  was  tenanted  only  by  Indians  and  animals. 

Many  were  the  adventures  of  this  hardy  pioneer. 
Generally  he  had  for  companions  several  of  the  young 
men  belonging  to  the  frontier  settlement  in  which  he 
lived,  and  also  an  Indian  of  the  Iowa  tribe,  who  not 
only  served  as  guide,  but  also  as  protector  against  dan- 
ger of  attack  from  many  of  the  Western  tribes,  whose 
language  he  understood,  and  with  whom  he  was 
acquainted. 

It  was  with  a  party  of  nine,  including  Sequapah, 
the  Indian,  that  Apleigh  met  with  a  perilous  adventure 
early  in  the  40's,  and  which  he  relates  in  language 
much  as  follows : 

"  It  was  'bout  forty-five  years  ago,  I  believe.  We'd 
had  a  dry  season  ;  didn't  raise  any  crops  to  'mount  to 
anything,  an*  'bout  the  first  of  September  I  told  the 
*  *<1  folks  I  couldn't  stay  at  home  any  longer ;  I'd  got 

80 


INDIAN  TALES.  81 

to  get  out  o'  that  clearin',  V  be  doing  something  agin. 

"  So  I  went  across  the  river  'bout  two  mile,  where 
the  Clancy  boys  lived,  Art  and  Logan,  too  see  'em 
'bout  goin'  out  west  of  the  Missouri  after  beaver  an' 
buffalo  hides.  'Twas  after  dark  when  I  got  to  their 
cabin,  'n'  I  found  'em  both  down  on  their  knees  mouldin' 
bullets ;  they  had  the  floor  covered  with  'em,  'n'  I 
remember  I  like  to  have  broke  my  neck  treadin'  on 
'em. 

"  Well,  after  the  boys  had  had  a  good  laugh  at  me, 
Art  up  an'  toF  me  that  they  had  'lowed  to  come  over 
an'  see  me  in  the  mornin'  'bout  goin'  with  'em  on  a 
hunt  they'd  been  a-plannin'  at  a  rasin'  they'd  been 
invited  to  over  on  Plum  creek.  They'd  got  five  of  the 
men  over  there  to  agree  to  go,  perviden'  Sequapah,  an 
Iowa  Injun  that  lived  'bout  twenty  miles  'bove  us, 
would  go  along. 

"  Sequapah  had  ben  off  with  me,  an'  with  Art  an' 
Logan  Clancy,  on  many  a  huntin'  an  trappin'  trip. 
He'd  ben  'mong  the  Sioux  a  good  deal,  an'  was 
'quainted  with  a  good  many  of  their  head  chiefs,  'n' 
could  palaver  as  well  in  Sioux  or  Omaha  as  he  could 
in  his  own  Iowa  tribe. 

"  Of  course  I  fell  in  with  'em,  as  that  was  jest  what 
I  wanted  to  see  'em  about.  So  the  next  day  Logan 
went  after  Sequapah,  an'  brought  him  down,  comin' 
past  Plum  Creek,  so  as  to  let  the  men  there  know  the 
Injun  was  ready  to  start. 

"Well,  the  long  an'  short  of  it  was  that  in  three 
days  we  started,  nine  of  us,  with  three  teams  an* 
wagons,  an'  five  ridin'  horses  besides.  We  had  cloth 
covers  for  our  wagons.  The  canvas  Art  an'  Logan 
Clancy   had  got  at    St.   Louis,    together  with   some 


82  INDIAN  TALES. 

buffalo  guns  for  me  an'  themselves.  Besides  our  ordi- 
nary huntin5  rifles,  we  had  five  buffalo  guns  in  the 
crowd.  These  guns  were  sjiort,  heavy  rifles,  for  close 
shootin' ;  barrels  'bout  eighteen  inches  long,  an'  shot 
a  slug — twelve  to  the  pound — 'most  as  big  as  a  man's 
thumb. 

"  We  steered  for  the  Platte  Biver,  an'  rafted  the 
Missouri  not  far  'bove  where  the  city  o'  Council  Bluffs 
now  stands.  The  Platte  Yalley  was  the  best  huntin' 
and  trappin'  ground  in  the  hull  Northwest  in  them 
days.  Buffalo,  elk,  deer,  antelope,  beaver,  every 
kind  o'  game  except  grizzlies,  was~  thick  as  grass- 
hoppers. 

"  There  was  one  drawback  to  huntin'  then,  though, 
that  usually  kept  white  men  out  o'  the  country.  It* 
was  the  huntin'-ground  of  both  the  Lower  Sioux  an' 
the  Pawnees,  an'  'twas  generally  bad  business  when  a 
white  man  met  up  with  a  band  of  either  of  'em. 

"  I  went  out  there  many  a  time,  though,  between 
1840  an'  1861,  but'  Sequapah  was  generally  with  me, 
an'  he  was  so  well  'quainted  with  the  Sioux,  that  I 
went  boldly  'mong  'em  with  him,  an'  they  never 
offered  me  harm. 

"  But  with  the  Pawnees  'twas  different.  Sequapah 
didn't  know  any  of  'em;  couldn't  understand  their 
lingo,  as  it's  altogether  different  from  the  Sioux  an* 
Io was,  who  have  many  words  alike,  an'  can  generally 
manage  to  understand  each  other. 

"  So  we  usually  made  out  to  do  our  huntin'  an' 
trappin'  in  them  parts  as  close  to  the  headquarters  of  a 
Sioux  band  o*  hunters  as  we  could  make  it  pay;  an'  they 
bein'  at  war  always  with  the  Pawnees,  an'  'most  always 
the    strongest,    we    managed    to   dodge    the  Loups, 


INDIAN  TALES.  83 

except  on  three  or  four  trips,  when  we  did  run  some 
pretty  narrow  chances  with  these  red-hot  rascals. 

"An'  the  trip  that  I'm  talkin'  'bout  was  one  of  'em. 

"  'Bout  fifty  miles  from  the  Missouri  we  struck  a 
strong  band  of  Tanktonais  Sioux,  some  three  hundred 
of  'em,  camped  on  the  bank  of  the  Platte.  Sequapah 
knew  the  head  chief  an'  a  lot  more  of  'em,  an' after  we'd 
spent  a  day  restin',  tradin'  an'  powwovriri'  'mong  'em, 
we  moved  on  up  twenty-five  or  thirty  miles,  an' pitched 
our  camp  near  the  mouth  of  Shell  Creek. 

"We  had  to  camp  in  a  rather  exposed  place  on 
account  o'  gittin'  water,  but  we  picked  the  best  ground 
we  could  find,  on  a  slopin'  ridge  that  ran  down  to  the 
creek-bed.  It  was  exposed  enough,  though,  there  bein' 
a  bushy  gulley  on  either  side,  an'  each  o'  the  gulches 
within  a  hundred  yards,  an'  we  had  plenty  of  reason  to 
wish  ourselves  a  thousan'  miles  away  from  it  inside 
o'  three  days. 

"  It  ain't  exaggeratin'  butleetle  to  say  that  the  country 
was  black  with  buffalo,  an'  the  creek  a-swarmin'  with 
beaver,  an'  we  'lowed  to  have  the  biggest  kind  of  a 
harvest  in  robes  an'  pelts. 

"  The  second  day  out  we  brought  in  twenty-eight  of 
as  fine  buffalo  pelts  as  ever  I  laid  eyes  on;  but  that  very 
night  two  o'  the  Plum  Creek  boys,  Hank  Bean  an'  Dave 
Torsey,  come  in  with  their  ponies  a  lather  of  sweat,  an' 
their  hats  gone,  fresh  from  a  hard  run,  to  get  out  o' 
the  way  of  a  swarm  o'  Injuns  that  had  chased  'em 
almost  into  camp,  they  bavin'  dodged  'em  in  one  of  the 
gulches  above.  They  said  they  believed  there  was 
more  than  a  hundred  of  'em,  an'  it  was  proved  pretty 
soon  that  they  hadn't  put  the  figger  too  high. 

"  Well,  we  set  to  work  at  once  to  make  ourselves 


g4  INDIAN   TALES. 

safe  from  their  arrers,  if  they  should  pitch  into  us,  as 
Hank  an'  Dave  'lowed  they  would,  as  soon  as  they 
could  get  us  located,  an'  find  out  our  numbers. 

"  We  took  the  three  wagons  an'  formed  a  squar'  of  'em 
with  an  open  side  to'rds  the  creek,  as  there  wa'n't 
much  danger  o'  them  comin'  up  the  slope  from  that 
direction.  Then  we  took  our  fresh  buffalo  hides,  an' 
nailed  em'  four,  or  five  deep  to  the  tops  of  the  wagon 
boxes,  so  that  their  lower  edges  laid  on  the  ground,  an' 
that  wall  o'  hides  is  just  exactly  what  saved  us  from  a 
o-eneral  massacre. 

"We  didn't  look  for  an  attack,  though,  before  mornin', 
if  it  came  at  all.  Sequapah  gave  it  as  his  opinion  the 
boys  had  been  run  in  by  a  fresh  band  of  Sioux,  an'  that 
he  could  pacify  'em  once  he  got  amongst  'em.  He  said 
he  didn't  b'lieve  Pawnees,  unless  the  whole  tribe  was 
together,  'd  dare  to  come  in  so  close  to  the  big  Sioux 
village  below.  We  picketed  our ,  horses  on  the  slope, 
an'  leavin'  Art  Clancy  an'  a  Plum  Creek  fellow  named 
Rowley  on  guard,  the  rest  of  us  rolled  in,  an'  went  to 
sleep. 

"  I  don't  know  how  long  we'd  slept,  but  not  long, 
when  we  was  brought  standin'  by  sech  a  storm  of  bid- 
jus  yells  as  never  had  come  to  my  ears  before.  It  come 
from  both  sides,  c  Yi!  yi-hi!  YeouooghP 

"  We  all  began  to  grab  for  our  guns  the  instant  our 
wits  come  to  us ;  an'  just  about  then  Art  Clancy  an' 
Rowley  shot  inside  our  wagon  fort. 

" '  Ravines  are  full  of  Injuns  on  both  sides,  boys,' 
said  Art,  '  but  they  haint  shot  an  arrer  yet !  They've 
come  up  the  bottom  o'  the  gulches  tumble  sly,  fer  that 
veil's  the  first  I've  heard  of  'em.' 

"  Sequapah  had  been  asleep  with  the  rest  of  us  inside, 


13TDXAN  TALES.  «S?> 

and  now  Tie e  called,  on.  him  to  explain  the  queer  perform- 
ance, for  we'd  expected  to  have  arrers  an'  bullets  come 
thick  as  hail  after  seen  a  yell,  an'  not  a  bullet  nor  a 
arrer  was  shot  at  us,  nor  had  the  Injuns  made  another 
sound,  'ceptin'  that  one  gen'ral  shriek. 

" '  Huh !  um  Sioux,  Oglallas,  me  guess,'  said  Sequa- 
pah.  'Um  no  hollar  like  um  Yanktonais,  no  like  um 
Wapekuta,  no  like  um  Cheyenne,  me  heap  guess  um 
Oglalla.  Um  a  heap  fool,  holla  yi  hi;  fink  when  he  no 
shoot  evly  body  he  lun  look  then  he  heap  shoot  um, 
Huh! '  an'  he  spit  hard  on  the  ground  to  express  his 
disgust.  'Huh!  me  make  a  heap  talk  now;  then  he 
light  off  go  away  me  guess.' 

"  On  sayin'  that,  he  climbed  up  on  one  of  the  wagons, 
— we'd  taken  off  the  sheets, — laid  his  gun  across  the 
top  of  the  box,  an'  stood  up  bold  as  a  lion. 

"  He  yelled  out  something  in  the  Sioux  language,  then 
called  over  two  or  three  names  that  I  knew  :  'Hpton 
Washtado,'  meanin'  '  He  with  a  very  good  face,'  an' 
'Petit  Corbeauf  '  Little  Crow  ' — both  Sioux  chiefs,  an' 
then,  without  waitin'  for  'em  to  reply,  began  fLourishin' 
his  arms  and  makin'  a  speech. 

"He  was  a  reg'lar  Injun  'bout  likin'  to  make  a 
spread.  I've  often  thought  since  that  I  never  saw  nor 
heard  anythin'  so  perfectly  redie'lus  as  his  performance 
that  night. 

"  I  can  see  him  yet,  every  time  I  shut  my  eyes,  as  he 
stood  up  there  atween  the  wagon-bows  a-speechifyin' 
an'  layin5  it  off  with  both  hands,  talkin'  first  at  one 
ravine  an'  then  turnin'  to  the  other.  Talk  about  an 
Injun's  bein'  dignified,  why,  Sequapah  made  more  noise 
than  anjr  Fourth  o'  July  orator  I  ever  heard ! 


@B  INDIAN   TALES. 

a  Desprit  as  the  sityeation  might  turn  out  for  us,  we 
jess  had  to  laugh. 

"  There  was  a  moon  that  didn't  go  down  till  after 
midnight  an'  it  was  light  enough  to  see  off  quite  a 
distance.  While  Sequapah  was  talkin'  we  was  all 
peekin'  over  the  tops  of  the  wagons  tor'ds  the  ravines, 
some  on  one  side  an'  some  on  the  other,  an'  putty  soon 
Injun  heads  began  to  pop  up  in  both  directions,  seemin' 
to  shoot  up  out  o3  the  grass  at  the  edge  o'  the  slopes. 

"Pretty  soon  there  was  a  whole  string  of  'em 
standin'  up  on  both  sides,  lookin'  like  a  picket  fence  in 
a  mirage,  a  listenin'  with  all  their  ears  to  Sequapah's 
oration.  The  nearest  ones  must  'a'  been  'bout  eighty 
steps  away.  It  wasn't  light  enough  to  see  'em  dis- 
tinctly, but  there  couldn't  'a'  been  less  than  half  a 
hundred  on  each  side. 

"  Sequapah  kept  on  with  his  speech,  jabberin'  away 
in  Sioux  for  nigh  ten  minutes  I  should  guess.  I  could 
understand  a  few  words  an'  heard  him  tell  'em :  iOglalla 
wash-tah-do  pe-o-peh,  Ko-sah-wahuf  and  Pawnees  ha 
wai-kahu  !  sich-e  wa-nich-ee  P  which  meant  that  he  was 
braggin'  up  the  Oglalla  Sioux  and  callin'  the  Pawnees 
miserable  fellows,  no  good  for  any  purpose,  an'  as  the 
two  tribes  was  always  at  war  with  each  other  he  ex- 
pected to  make  frien's  with  'em,  takin'  it  for  granted) 
o'  course,  that  they  were  Oglallas. 

"  "Well,  he  wound  up  finally  an'  waited  for  an  answer. 
One  of  'em  then,  on  the  right-hand  side,  who  seemed  a 
foot  taller  than  any  o'  the  rest,  came  f orard  a  few 
steps  an'  begun  talkin'  back  in  a  deep  voice  that  sounded 
harsh  as  a  grater. 

"  Sequapah  listened  a  few  seconds  an'  then,  '•Huh  ! ' 
he  grunted  ;  <no  understand  wm  Pawnee  !  '    an',  mad  as 


INDIAN  TALES.  87 

a  hornet  to  think  he'd  wasted  all  his  elokence,  he 
grabbed  up  his  gun  an'  blazed  away  at  'em,  then,  quick 
almost  as  lightning  he  turned,  give  a  jump,  an*  shot 
down  amongst  us  like  a  metiur. 

"  Then  there  was  music !  Such  screechin'  and  howlin' 
I  hope  I  may  never  hear  agin;  an'  the  bullets  an' 
arrers  came  peltin'  agin'  the  wagons  an'  the  buffalo- 
hides  like  a  dozen  boys  was  thro  win'  han'fuls  o'  gravel- 
stones  at 'em;  they'd  click  on  the  iron,  chug  into  the 
wood  and  thump  the  skins,  an'  ev'ry  time  there'd  come 
a  shower  of  'em  there'd  rise  up  a  horrible  babel  o' 
screeches. 

"  We  ducked,  o'  course,  the  minute  Sequapah  shot  at 
'em,  an'  then  we  lay  close,  reservin'  our  fire  for  a  charge, 
if  they  should  git  bold  enough  to  make  one.  Four 
thicknesses  o'  buffalo-hides  hangin'  loose  was  plenty 
of  protection  agin  any  weapon  the  Injuns  had  in  them 
days,  but  there'd  been  several  cracks  left  at  the  hubs 
of  the  wagon- wheels  an'  ev'ry  few  minutes  an  arrer  or 
a  bullet  or  a  shot  would  whistle  through  one  of  'em. 
They  was  accidental  shots,  o*  course,  fired  at  the 
wagons,  but  'fore  we  got  the  cracks  located  so  as  to 
keep  out  o'  range  of  'em  Jim  Rowley  'd  got  a  buck- 
shot in  his  wrist  an'  Logan  Clancy'd  had  a  piece  o' 
scalp  raised  across  the  back  of  his  head  by  an  arrer. 

"  We  lay  huggin'  the  ground  for  two  hours  or  more 
with  a  storm  of  yells  an'  shots  on  each  side,  an'  no- 
body fired  at  an  Injun  but  Art  Clancy  an'  Sequapah  ; 
they  took  turns  in  loadin'  their  big  buffalo  guns  nigh 
to  the  muzzle  an'  firin'  'em  over  the  tops  of  the  wagons, 
so  to  let  'em  know  that  we  had  big  guns  amongst  us 
and  plenty  of  ammunition.    This  prob'ly  discouraged 


88  INDIAN  TALES. 

'em  from  makin'  a  charge,  an'  after  a.  while  the  firm' 
slacked  up  an'  everything  got  quiet. 

"  But  they  hadn't  give  up,  we  soon  found,  for  some 
of  us  kept  watch  through  cracks  after  thefirin'  stopped, 
an'  'twasn't  long  till  an  Injun  was  seen  sneakin'  out 
tor'ds  the  horses.  Two  or  three  shots  sent  him  scut- 
tlin'  back  into  the  gulch  agin. 

"  Then  after  a  bit,  we  discovered  that  a  number  of 
'em  had  climed  into  the  tree-tops  across  one  of  the 
ravines  an'  was  tryin'  to  shoot  their  arrers  over  onto 
us.  They  couldn't  get  up  high  'nough,  though,  an' 
failed  to  get  their  arrers  inside  our  corral.  We  sent 
some  bullets  over  after  'em  an'  they  give  that  up. 

"  Everything  was  quiet  until  morning  after  that, 
'ceptin'  now  an'  then  a  few  whoops,  and  when  day- 
light came,  and  when  it  got  light  enough  to  see,  we 
made  a  sudden  discovery  inside  our  little  garrison. 

"  Sequapah  was  gone  ! 

"  He  wasn't  inside  the  corral,  an'  no  one  had  seen 
him  go  out.  It  had  been  quite  dark  for  two  hours 
back,  an*  we  knew  at  once  that  he'd  slipped  out  an' 
crawled  off  down  the  slope  ^  an'  that  he'd  gone  in 
hopes  of  gitten'  away  an'  bringin'  the  Sioux  to  our 
rescue,  but  as  we'd  heard  some  fierce  yells  down 
tor'ds  the  mouth  o'  the  ravines  not  long  before  we 
were  afraid  he  hadn't  made  it. 

"  That  was  a  terrible  day  for  us ;  the  Pawnees  had 
settled  down  to  a  reg'lar  siege.  We  could  see  a  few 
of  their  streaks  o'  smoke  comin'  out  the  ravines  where 
there  were  fires  and  where,  prob'ly,  some  of  'em  were 
eookin'  their  breakfasts.  But  there  was  enough  of  'em 
on  the  watch,  an'  we  couldn't  expose  so  much  as  a 


INDIAN   TALES.  89 

finger  without  havin'  a  shower  o'  bullets,  shot  an' 
arrers  sent  at  it. 

"  Art  Clancy  an'  I  managed  to  build  a  fire  an'  roast 
some  steak,  which  we  handed  'round  to  the  boys. 
Logan  had  his  head  bandaged  and  Rowley  had  his 
wrist  wrapped  in  some  cloths  they  tore  from  the  linin' 
of  Jim's  coat. 

"  The  horses  had  been  picketed  close  in,  an'  all  but 
three  x>f  'em  was  there  by  their  stakes  whinnyin'  for 
water.  Three  o'  the  farthest  ones  had  either  been  cut 
loose  durin'  the  darkest  part  o'  the  night  or  they'd  got 
scared  at  the  firin'  an'  broke  away. 

"Wall,  the  day  wore  on,  an'  that  afternoon  another 
o'  the  Plum  Creek  boys  got  hit,  a  bullet  glancin'  off  one 
o'  the  wagon-tires  an'  buryin'  itself  in  the  top  o'  his  left 
shoulder.  It  was  a  severe  wound  an'  used  him  up. 
"We  done  the  best  we  could  dressin'  it  and  made  him 
a  comfortable  bed  to  lay  on. 

"  The  afternoon  passed  an'  still  no  sign  of  frien's. 
Night  came  on,  an'  wore  away.  How  those  poor 
horses  whinnied  for  water !  two  more  of  'em  broke 
away  in  the  night. 

"  Daylight  came  agin  an'  found  us  'bout  as  despairin' 
a  set  of  men  as  ever  was  besieged.  We'd  have  made  a 
break  to  get  out  an'  cut  our  way  through  in  the  dark- 
ness that  night,  if  't  hadn't  been  for  the  wounded  ones 

we  couldn't  leave  'em  nor  git  away  with  'em. 

"  It  was  lucky  we  didn't  try,  for  just  about  sunrise 
down  came  the  Sioux,  swarmin'  over  the  hill  an*  down 
the  ravines  like  a  fresh-stirred  nest  o*  hornets.  They 
came  streakin*  down,  lyin'  low  on  their  horses  an' 
yellin'  like  demons,  an'  they  cleared  them  gulches  o' 
Pawnees  'bout  as  quick  as  I  can  tell  it. 


90 


INDIAN    TALKS. 


"  Sequapah  was  with  'em,  an'  he  came  ridin'  straight 
to  us  an'  seemed  as  tickled  as  we  ourselves  that  he'd 
brought  the  Sioux  in  time. 

"  The  Yanktons  followed  up  the  Pawnees  an'  fit 
with  'em  nearly  all  day ;  they  killed  a  good  many  of 
'em,  too,  and  got  back  three  o'  our  horses. 


m 


■"  The  next  day  we  hurried  back  an'  camped  at  their 
village.  Here  the  boys  nursed  their  wounds  -an'  the 
rest  of  us  hunted  an'  trapped.  There  wasn't  many  of 
'em  that  cared  to  git  far  away  from  thp  Yankton 
village  agin,  an'  as  we  had  to  share  our  ketch  with  the 
Sioux,  we  didn't  go  home  as  well  loaded  as  we  had 
expected. 


INDIAN    TALES. 


91 


"  There  was  enough  of  peltries,  though,  so  that  when 
we  came  to  carry  'em.. down  to  St.  Louis  they  brought 
enough  to  pay  well  for  our  time,  if  not  for  the  danger 
we'd  undergone." 


X. 

OUTJUGGLED. 

"  Now  turn  your  tongue  loose,  Mac  and  tell  us  a 
good  story;  some  wild  yarn.  We  don't  want  any  fancy 
stuff,  but  a  real  adventure,  something  exciting,  out  of 
your  own  knock-about  experiences  on  the  frontier." 

It  was  during  our  hunting  trip  up  Red  River  into 
Texas  and  the  "  nation's  "  territory.  We  had  camped 
that  night  in  the  shelter  of  the  bluff  s3  and  had  a  roar- 
ing camp-fire  burning  ;  for  a  blustering  "  norther  "  had 
come  down  on  us.  Mac  had  figured  as  a  traveling 
magician. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  Mac  responded  at  length,  and 
in  compliance  with  our  urgent,  hilarious  demand  on 
him,  "  I  will  tell  you  a  little  thing  that  happened  to 
me  once  on  a  time,  and  not  so  very  long  ago,  either. 
It  was  last  fall,  in  fact,  and  came  off  at  one  of  the 
Comanche  villages. 

"  About  the  middle  of  November,  I  was  trailing  my 
cart  and  show  truck  over  the  "  Sill  Route"  once  more, 
and  I  camped  for  the  night  at  the  Comanche  town,  as  I'd 
done  a  dozen  times  before  that.  I  knew  the  bucks, 
every  one  of  them,  or  thought  I  did,  and  I  felt  no  fear 
at  going  among  'em  alone,  though  before  I'd  always 
carried  a  driver. 

"Well,  I  hadn't  got  my  supper  cooked  before  a  lot 
of  young  braves  came  down  to  my  wagon  and  engaged 
me  for  a  show  that  evening  in  their  new  school-house ! 
Well,  they've  got  one,  a  big  log  house,  with  a  board 

93 


X 


INDIAN   TALES.  *» 

floor  and  seats.  It  had  just  been,  built,  and  they'd  got 
an  edicated  half-breed  girl  to  teach. 

"  I  told  the  young  chaps  that  if  they'd  help  me  rig  a 
little  staging  and  put  up  my  curtains  and  raise  me  five 
dollars,  I'd  give  'em  a  first  -class  show,  with  all  the 
latest  performances  in  legerdemain. 

"  Well,  these  young  bucks  that  I  was  speaking  of 
come  down  in  'bout  an  hour  with  half  the  town,  young 
and  old^  big  and  little,  at  their  heels,  and  away  we 
went,  cart,  horse  and  all,  over  to  their  school-house, 
which  was  built  in  the  woods  'bout  forty  rods  from  the 
village.  In  a  very  short  space  of  time,  we  had  a  nar- 
row staging  rigged,  and  I  hung  my  calico  curtains 
'cross  the  front  of  it,  packed  in  my  truck-chests,  and 
while  the  house  was  a-filling  up  plump  full  of  the  black, 
greasy -faced  beggars,  I  got  ready  for  business. 

"  They  raised  me  the  five  dollars  in  silver  and  paid  it 
cheerfull  as  you  please  ;  the  beggars'll  give  their  last 
cent  either  for  a  drink  of  whisky  or  to  see  any  kind 
of  a  queer  performance  that  is  new  to  them. 

"  Well,  I  opened  up  on  'em.  I  performed  with  rings, 
with  cup  and  ball,  and  set  'em  all  a-gruntin'  and  a- 
ehuggering  with  delight. 

"  Then  I  loaded  a  pistol,  marked  the  bullet,  and  let 
'em  examine  it ;  and  then  handing  the  pistol  to  a  young 
buck  I  told  him  to  shoot  me  squarely  between  the  eyes. 
That  was  too  much  for  them  Comanches ;  they  just 
gripped  their  seats  and  grunted  like  a  lot  of  wild  hogs 
that  you've  just  jumped  in  a  thicket  of  sweet-briers. 

"  That  young  buck's  hand  trembled  like  a  mule's  ear ; 
but  he  pulled  down  on  me,  gritty  like,  shut  his  teeth, 
and  cut  loose.  Then  them  Comanches  just  rose  to  their 
feet  and  yelled !    But  I  stepped  down  out  of  the  smoke 


94 


IHJOIAN   TALES. 


4    LM3J  11U 


med  with  rings."-— Page  98. 


INDIAN   TALES.  95 

and  motioned  'em  back  into  their  seats,  and  got  'em 
quiet  agin. 

"  Then  1  opened  my  lips  and  showed  'em  the  bullet 
between  my  teeth,  and  when  they'd  all  seen  it  there,  I 
took  it  out  and  passed  it  round.  It  had  the  same  marks 
as  the  bullet  they'd  seen  me  put  in  the  pistol. 

"  But  I  hadn't  done  with  'em  yet ;  fool  that  I  was, 
I  proposed  the  rope  performance,  and  called  on  two  of 
their  best  men  to  come  up  and  tie  me,  telling  'em  that 
I  could  get  out  of  their  knots  before  one  of  'em  would 
have  time  to  saddle  a  pony,  if  the  horse  were  right 
there. 

"  I  produced  my  rope,  a  good  long  one,  three-eights, 
and  stout  enough  to  hold  a  two-year-old  steer.  I  lay 
down  on  the  platform  and  told  'em  to  come  on  and  do 
their  tying.  At  first  they  all  seemed  a  little  scared  of 
trying ;  that  bullet  business,  you  see,  had  made  'em  a 
little  shy  'bout  fooling  round  me. 

"  Presently  a  big,  tall,  ugly-looking  old  buck,  wear- 
ing a  green  blanket  round  him  and  a  lot  of  dyed  turkey 
feathers  in  his  hair,  came  up  on  the  stage  and  motioned 
to  a  stout  young  one,  sitting  near,  to  come  and  help 
him.  The  young  chap  trotted  up,  and  they  went  at 
me. 

"  I  swelled  out  my  muscles  with  all  my  might ;  you 
know  how  the  trick's  done;  but,  gentlemen,  before 
they  got  half  done,  I  knew  I  was  cornered. 

"  I  saw  it  in  that  old  black  villain's  wrinkled,  scowl- 
ing face  and  in  his  murderous,  snaky  little  eyes.  He 
was  one  of  their  medicine  men,  probably  the  greatest 
of  the  tribe.  The  old  brute"  was  jealous  of  me ;  and 
knowing  there  was  nothing  any  more  supernatural 
about  my  tricks  than  about  his  own  heedyus  juggling, 


96  INDIAN    TALES. 

he'd  made  up  his  mind  to  corral  me  in  one  of  my  own 
performances. 

"  "Well,  gentlemen,  that  rope  was  passed  round  my 
wrists  in  a  twinkling,  and  drawed  so  tight  that  I 
winked  hard  with  the  pain,  and  I  felt  the  veins  swell 
almost  to  bursting. 

"  From  my  wrists  they  passed  the  rope  tight  around 
my  waist,  then  took  a  half  hitch  around  my  neck  and 
knotted  it  under  my  arms.  Then  they  went  for  iny 
legs  with  the  other  end  of  the  rope,  and  tied  my  ankles 
( I'd  taken  off  my  boots )  so  tight  that  my  feet  ached 
before  they'd  finished  knotting. 

"  I  laid  there  and  never  opened  my  mouth ;  I 
wouldn't  even  let  myself  think  till  they  pulled  the  cur- 
tains on  me.  When  they  got  through,  I  told  'em  to 
draw  the  curtain  and  shut  me  in  so  that  I  might  set 
my  medicine  at  work  on  the  ropes.  I  saw  the  old  med- 
icine-man grin  as  I  give  the  order.  He  shoved  the 
young  fellow  off  the  staging  and  pulled  the  curtains  to, 
leaving  himself  inside.  Then  I  hearda  surprised  grunt 
all  over  the  house,  and  I  began  to  think. 

"  I  let  my  muscles  relax  and  shrunk  up  like  a  turtle ; 
but  them  knots  shrunk  with  me,  and  I  found  myself 
helpless  as  a  baby  ;  and  there  was  that  old  grinning 
wretch  bending  over  me  with  his  snakish  black  eyes 
just  glittering  in  triumph  ! 

"  i  Guess  you've  got  me,  old  man,'  said  I ;  '  what  are 
you  going  to  do  about  it  % ' 

"  He  bent  over  me,  and  made  a  hissing  noise  with 
his  mouth,  a  noise  that  sounded  exactly  like  the  buzz  of 
a  rattlesnake's  tail.  Everything  and  everybody  in  the 
room  was  as  still  as  a  tomb-stone.  I  couldn't  hear  a 
breath  outside.    All  at  once  that  wretch  stopped  his 


INDIAN   TALKS.  97 

hissing,  and  with  a  quick  movement  jerked  my  head  up 
between  his  knees,  jammed  something  between  my  jaws, 
whipped  a  red  scarf  out  from  under  his  blanket,  and 
passed  it  around  my  head  and  mouth — gagged  me,  in 
fact,  tight  as  a  dor.ble-sinched  bucker. 

"  'I've  given  my  last  show  on  this  earth,'  I  thought. 
Then  the  old  villain  backed  down  off  the  platform  and 
slipped  out  from  under  the  curtain. 

"  There  was  a  general  grunt  of  curiosity  and  aston- 
ishment outside,  and  a  heap  of  admiration,  for  their  old 
juggler  was  mixed  up  with  their  racket. 

"  'Silence  ! '  growled  the  old  wretch  in  Comanche. 
'  Silence !  I  have  breathed  upon  the  bad  medicine-man 
of  the  whites.  If  I  had  not  done  so,  his  vile,  poisonous 
breath  would  have  slain  every  warrior  in  the  room. 
At  midnight  every  one  of  you  would  have  died.  Just 
as  the  moon  rose  above  the  tree-tops,  your  spirits  would 
have  left  your  bodies.  Your  squaws  and  your  children 
would  have  been  given  to  them  crawling  snakes,  the 
Creeks  and  the  Choctaws  in  the  East.' 

"  Of  course  I'm  only  trying  to  give  you  the  substance 
of  what  he  said.  I  don't  understand  their  jargon,  only 
well  enough  to  get  their  general  meaning.  When  the 
old  man  ceased  speaking,  the  crowd  just  got  up  and 
shrieked  in  the  awfullest  blood-curdling  yells  you  ever 
dreamed  of!  for  a  minute  I  thought  my  time  had  come, 
and  that  I  should  be  torn  to  pieces  by  the  screeching 
mob,  but  the  old  man  shook  his  medicine-rattle  at  'em 
and  down  they  sat  again,  quiet  as  you  please. 

" '  Listen  ! '  ho  said.  'Go  home  now,  my  children,  to 
your  tepees  and  sleep ;  come  not  here  till  morning,  when 
you'll  find  the  bad  medicine  of  the  whites  harmless  as 
the  water  of  the  Coder.     He  shall  not  hurt  you.     Go, 


98  INDIAN  TALKS. 

and  leave  me  with  the  medicine-dog  ;  for  I  must  breathe 
again  upon  him,  and  my  breath  will  take  away  all  his 
charms  and  all  his  magic.  He  shall  ketch  no  more 
bullets  in  his  teeth.  Go,  my  children,  for  my  breath  is 
sacred  and  can  be  of  no  good  until  all  the  members  of 
my  tribe  are  in  their  lodges.' 

"  And  do  you  believe  it,  they  all  got  up  and  skipped 
out  of  there,  every  mother's  son  of  'em  !  There  I  was, 
left  alone  with  that  heedyus  old  beast.  I  had  worked 
desputly  all  the  time  he  was  talking,  trying  to  draw 
my  hands  from  the  rope.  I  loosened  one  of  'em 
just  a  trifle,  enough  to  know  that  in  half  an  hour 
of  hard  work  I  could  bring  my  wrist  through,  by  peel- 
ing all  the  skin  off  with  it.  Well,  when  they'd  gone 
and  the  last  sound  of  'em  died  away,  the  old  juggler 
stuck  his  face  inside.  * 

"  '  I  go  now '  says  he,  1  go  to  my  tepee  to  prepare  my 
medicines^  against  the  medicine  of  the  white  dog. 
When  I  come  again  the  white  man's  magic  shall  all  be 
mine ;  he  will  tell  me  all  his  medicines.'  Then  he  came 
inside,  felt  of  all  my  knots,  made  himself  sure  of  'em, 
and  then  went  out  and  left  me. 

" '  So  that's  your  game,  is  it  ? '  thought  I,  and  I 
began  to  take  hope  at  once.  I  hadn't  time  to  think 
over  the  situation ;  I  just  worked  like  a  beaver,  with 
the  sweat  pouring  off  me  like  rain  off  a  slicker. 

"It  was  a  struggle  for  life ;  for  of  course  I  hadn't  a 
doubt  but  the  medicine-man  meant  to  kill  me,  whether 
I  told  him  any  of  my  tricks  or  not.  He  would  smother 
me  like  a  cat  in  a  sack,  and  pretend  to  his .  tribe  that 
his  breath  had  killed  the  medicine-man  of  the  whites, 
when  he  would  possess  himself  of  my  trinkets  and  be 
the  greatest  man  that  ever  trod  a  Comanche  town. 


INDIAN    TALES.  99 

"  Well,  he  was  gone  longer  than  I  had  any  reason  to 
hope  for  ;  and  after  a  time  I  wrenched  my  right  hand 
through  the  loop  that  held  it.  And  I  peeled  it,  too, 
peeled  it  horribly.  But  after  that  the  work  was  easy  ; 
I  got  my  arm  loose,  got  my  jackknifeoutof  my  pocket, 
managed  to  open  the  big  blade  with  the  stiff,  swelled 
fingers  of  my  other  hand.  Then  I  cut  and  slashed  for 
a  minute,  tore  the  bandage  off  my  mouth,  and  spit  out 
a  deer's-horn  charm.  I  was  nearly  smothered  with  my 
efforts, ;  for  of  course  I  couldn't  breathe  through  my 
mouth  till  I  got  the  scarf  off ;  but  I  soon  gained  my 
breath  and  sat  up,  a  free  man. 

"  Then  I  began  to  think  and  to  act.  My  right  hand 
was  just  streaming  with  blood,  and  an  idee  struck, me. 
I  smeared  it  all  over  my  face,  till  it  was  perfectly  red 
with  blood.  Then  I  got  up  and  fished  a  white  sheet 
out  of  one  of  my  chests,  a  piece  of  'white  factory  *  that 
I'd  used  in  some  of  my  tricks.  I  put  that  around  me, 
turned  down  the  lantern  and  the  other  light  inside  the 
curtains,  got  out  my  six-shooter,  then  leaned  back 
against  the  wall  and  waited. 

-  "It  was  nearly  half  an  hour  yet  before  I  heard  the 
old  heathen  coming.  He  stole  in,  soft  as  a  cat,  and 
slid  along  up  to  the  curtains.  I  always  carry  three 
lamps  with  me.  Two  of  them  were  burning  in  the 
room ;  but  he  seemed  puzzled  about  the  light  behind 
the  curtain.  Presently  he  opened  a  crack  and  peeked 
in.  What  do  you  think  I  saw  ?  The  horribiest  face 
ever  a  human  being  wore !  The  cheeks  painted  a  blar- 
ish  green,  half-moons  of  ghastly  yellow  under  the  eyes, 
a  jet-black  ring  about  the  ugly,  grinning  mouth,  and 
three  blood-red  stripes  across  the  forehead  ;  while  the 


100  INDIAN  TALES. 

little  black  eyes  shone  with  a  fierce,  beastly  glitter  that 
couldn't  be  described. 

"  He'd  got  himself  up  in  a  more  fearful  shape  than  I 
had.  He  was  going  to  scare  me ;  but  he  didn't  succeed 
— -not  any ! 

"  He  gave  a  surprised  '  whooh '  as  he  looked  on  the 
floor ;  there  was  nothing  there  but  a  bloody  spot.  I'd 
cleared  away  the  ropes  and  tossed  'em  one  side.  Then 
he  looked  up  and  I  stepped  forward,  jerked  the  curtains 
one  side,  and  exhibited  my  git-up  to  him.  With  a 
sharp  yell  he  threw  up  both  his  hands,  and  there  came 
over  his  bedaubed  face  the  ghastliest  look  of  fright  it's 
ever  ben  my  fortune  to  behold.  I  wish  I  could  have 
painted  it ;  I  should  be  famous  to-day. 

"  But  I  didn't  give  him  any  time  to  recover ;  I  jumped 
for  him,  and  struck  out  as  I  jumped.  He  went  his 
length  on  that  platform  like  a  beef -ox.  Then  I  grabbed 
the  pieces  of  rope  and  before  he  came  to  himself  enough 
to  realize  what  the  movement  meant,  I  had  him  tied ; 
yes,  and  had  that  old  deer's-horn  charm  between  his 
jaws,  bound  there  with  his  own  red  scarf,  tighter  than 
wax! 

*\  I'd  bound  him  with  limp  muscles,  and  he  was  there 
to  stay !  He  came  to  himself  in  a  minute  and  glared 
at  me  frightfully. 

" ' Ha !  ha ! '  says  I.  '  You'll  breathe  on  the  white 
dog,  will  you — you  f  Lay  there  and  learn  to  let  the 
medicine  of  the  white  man  alone  ! 

"  But  I  didn't  waste  time  palavering  at  him.  I 
hustled  my  things  out  of  there,  hitched  onto  my  cart, 
and  skipped  out  and  away  ;  and,  gentlemen,  I  never 
went,  fooling  round  any  Comanohe  village  agin." 


XL 

THE  OLD  JUDGE'S  STORY. 

"  I  have  lived  on  the  frontier  all  my  life,  beginning 
as  a  boy  in  Ohio,  and  regularly  moving  west  with  each 
fresh  migration  of  settlers,  to  newer  territories,  where 
the  sdd  was  still  unturned,  and  though  I  have  gone 
through  with  some  rough  experiences,  as  all  pioneers 
must,  yet  I  have  never  bad  any  serious  trouble  with  my 
fellowmen,  either  white  or  red,  save  on  one  occasion. 
That  was  in  the  summer  of  '53,  the  year  after  I  had 
settled  at  my  present  farm  on  the  Iowa  River  bottom- 
lands." 

It  was  after  this  manner  that  "  Old  Judge  Crego," 
as  he  was  commonly  called,  used  to  preface  his  account 
of  his  pioneer  troubles  with  the  Muskquakie  Indians, 
in  the  early  days  of  Iowa's  history.  The  old  gentleman 
had  been  a  county  judge  in  Illinois  or  Indiana,  the 
writer  has  forgotten  which. 

"  Yes,  I  had  trouble  then  ;  serious  trouble,  too.  It 
happened  in  haying  time,  about  the  last  days  in  July. 
We  w;ere  living  in  a  new  log-house  on  the  east  side  of 
the  river,  myself,  my  wife  and  child,  and  our  hired 
hand,  a  young  fellow  named  Aleck  "Wingate.  We  had 
one  child,  our  little  Susie,  five  years  old. 

"  Our  cabin  was  then  the  highest  mark  of  civilization 

— in  one  sense  at  least — upon  the  Iowa  River,  for  there 

were  no  settlers  above  us,  and  the  nearest  family  below 

was  seven  miles  distant.    We  were,  indeed,  well  out 

upon  the  frontier ;  yet  we  had  lived  there  for  more  than 

101 


102  INDIAN    TALES. 

a  year,  meeting  with  no  foes  more  dangerous  than  the 
wild  beasts.    - 

""We  knew  there  were  hunting-parties  of  Indians 
frequently  roaming  about  the  country,  chasing  the 
herds  of  elk,  which  were  then  very  numerous  along 
the  upper  Iowa  and  its  western  branches.  But  these 
Indians,  we  were  told,  belonged  to  the  friendly  lowas, 
Musquakies,  and  to  Johnny  Greene's  tribe ;  and  so  when 
a  band  of  some  thirty,  calling  themselves  Musquakies, 
came  and  camped  at  the  mouth  of  a  creek  two  miles 
above  us,  we  felt  no  uneasiness  at  their  presence,  our 
only  annoyance  coming  from  the  begging  propensities 
which  they  speedily  developed. 

"  They  would  come  singly,  and  in  twos  and  threes, 
stalking  in  at  the  door  generally  at  meal-time,  and  beg 
importunately  for  l  bled '  (bread)  and  'sug '  and '  tobac,' 
the  latter  an  article  of  which  Aleck  always  kept  a 
bountiful  supply  on  hand.  Aleck  and  I  were  then  at 
work  harvesting  a  twelve-acre  field  of  wheat,  which 
we  had  managed  to  get  in  the  spring  before ;  and  as 
this  field  was  in  an  opening  in  plain  sight  of  the  cabin, 
we  were,  during  the  first  week  of  the  Indians'  stay, 
always  within  call  of  my  wife,  who  often  sat  in  the 
open  door,  with  Susy  playing  at  her  feet,  and  watched 
us  as  we  cradled,  bound,  and  '  set  up '  the  grain. 

"But  when  we  went  at  our  haying,  on  the  wide 
marsh  which  lay  upon  the  west  end  of  my  land  across 
the  river,  we  were  much  farther  away. 

"  One  morning,  about  ten  o'clock,  I  should  think,  as 
we  were  at  work,  Aleck  looked  up — he  was  mowing 
just  ahead  of  me— and  threw  down  his  scythe  with  a 
shout  of  surprise. 


INDIAN   TALES.  103 

"  ;  Look  i '  be  cried.     '  Is  Mis'  Crego  crazy  ? ' 

"  Some  twenty  rods  distant  my  wife  was  running 
through  the  grass,  with  Susy  in  her  arms.'  I  saw  in 
an  instant  that  she  was  terribly  frightened.  Susy,  too, 
was  screaming. 

" '  Why,  why,  Em!'  I  shouted,  when  she  came  within 
calling  distance ;  '  what  does  this  mean  ?  Is  it  Indians  % ' 

"  She  came  out  onto  the  mowed  ground,  and  threw 
herself  and  child  down  upon  a  swath  of  hay,  and  there- 
she  lay  for  a  minute,  gasping  for  breath,  while  Aleck 
and  I,  who  had  both  run  to  meet  her,  stared  at  her  and 
at  each,  other  in  indignant  amazement,  for  we  had  both 
by  this  time  divined  something  of  what  her  story  would 
be. 

" '  John, '  she  gasped,  at  length,  'there's  an — Indian 
— at— the  house  !  He— he — shook  me— pulled  my  hair 
— and — and — kicked  Susy  / ' 

"  I  waited  not  to  hear  another  word. 

"  '  Stay  with  them,  Aleck ! '  I  shouted,  and  was  off  at 
full  run. 

"  My  wife  screamed  to  me  to  come  back,  but  my 
temper  was  started,  and  I  was  determined  to  punish 
the  insolent  wretch  if  I  had  to  chase  him  into  the 
midst  of  his  own  camp. 

"  I  splashed  through  the  river,  and  when  I  reached 
the  cabin,  and  dashed  in  at  the  door,  I  found  that  sav- 
age wretch  .seated  cross-legged  on  the  center  of  our 
table,  stolidly  gnawing  a  lean  pork  shank  which  my 
wife  had  boiled  for  dinner.  The  pulling  of  a  squaw's 
hair  and  the  kicking  of  a  papoose  were  affairs  of  such 
minor  importance  in  his  tribe,  that  he  probably  could 
not  conceive  that  I  should  be  violently  angry  that  he 
had  exercised  a  man's  supreme  privilege  in  my  home. 


104  INDIAN    TALES. 

Or  more  probably,  he  merely  thought  my  wife  had  run 
out  of  doors  and  hid  herself  and  child,  until  he  should 
go  away.  Be  that  as  it  may,  I  gave  him  no  time  to 
think  or  act  after  he  saw  me.  I  knocked  him  over, 
table  and  all. 

"  He  threw  the  table  off  with  an  angry  grunt,  sprang 
to  his  feet,  and  started  out.  He  went  away  slowly.  I 
knew  Indians  well  enough  to  know  what  the  fellow 
meant  by  that  sullen,  dignified  gait :  he  would  have 
his  revenge. 

"  I  felt  that  I  had  been  hasty ;  that,  in  fact,  I  had 
done  a  most  unwise  thing,  notwithstanding  the  Indi- 
an's brutal  treatment  of  my  wife  and  child.  Not  that 
I  was  sorry  to  have  punished  the  fellow,  and  turned 
him  out  of  my  house,  but  I  had  placed  myself  and 
family  in  extreme  jeopardy  by  my  hasty  course  of 
action.  If  I  had  taken  him  and  bound  his  hands,  and 
then  driven  him  back  to  his  camp  at  the  muzzle  of  my 
rifle,  both  he  and  his  fellows  would  no  doubt  have 
looked  upon  it  as  a  merited  punishment  for  his  trespass 
upon  my  premises  ;  but  to  have  struck  him  I  knew  was 
an  indignity  to  which  no  brave  would  tamely  submit. 

"  Events  afterwards  proved  that  I  judged  the  matter 
rightly. 

My  wife  and  Aleck  came  hurrying  to  the  house 
after  me,  both  scared  half  to  death,  and  when  I  told 
them  what  I  had  done  we  held  a  council. 

"  We  concluded  without  much  argument  that  it 
would  not  be  safe  to  leave  the  house  alone,  and  of 
course  that  Em  and  Susy  could  not  be  left  alone  there 
for  a  single  hour,  so  long  as  that  party  of  Indians 
remained  about.  So  we  finally  arranged  that  old  '  Tad5 


INDIAN  TALES.  105 

Newcome,  a  one-legged  trapper,  who  lived  in  the 
woods  three  miles  below  us,  should  be  hired  to  come  up 
and  stay  at  the  house  during  haying,  and,  if  he  would, 
until  the  trapping  season  set  in. 

"  One  evening,  as  Aleck  and  I  were  driving  up  fronr 
the  ford  with  a  load  of  hay — we  had  taken  my  horses 
and  the,  wagon  over  after  we  began  haying,  so  as  to 
haul  home  and  stack  a  load  every  night — we  met  old. 
Tad,  stumping  towards  us,  his  hat  off,  his  face  white 
and  working  strangely,  and  his  actions  showing  that 
something  terrible  had  occurred. 

"  *  Whoa ! '  shouted  Aleck,  who  was  driving ;  and  he 
looked  up  at  me. 

"  I  slipped  off  the  load  and  stepped  out  in  front  of 
the  old  trapper  as  he  came  up. 

«  «  For  Heaven's  sake ! '  I  exclaimed,  what  is  the 
matter  ? ' 

"  *  Jedge,'  said  he,  with  a  kind  of  gasp,  as  though 
the  news  choked  him,  '  they've  got  the  babby  / ' 

"  I  staggered  back  against  the  hay  like  a  drunken 
man.  For  a  moment  it  seemed  as  though  the  blood  had 
all  left  the  surface  of  my  body  and  gone  to  my  heart, 
and  I  felt  so  faint  and  sick  that  I  could  not  speak. 

"' Jedge/  said  the  old  man  again,  and  his  voice 
shook  as  though  he  had  an  ague  chill,  '  Jedge,  I — I — I 
never  dreamt' — tout  he  broke  down  and  could  not 
finish. 

" '  My  wife,'  said  I,  getting  my  voice, '  is  she  safe  ? " 

"  He  nodded  his  head  and  pointed  to  the  cabin. 

"  By  that  time  I  had  gathered  my  senses  enough  to 
note  that  Aleck  was  flying  around  the  horses,  unhitch- 
ing and  throwing  the  harness  off  them  like  a  wild  man. 


106  INDIAN   TALES. 

"  I  saw  what  was  his  purpose,  and  my  wits  seemed 
to  come  to  me  With  sudden  sharpness. 

" '  That's  right,  Aleck,'  said  I ; '  off  with  everything 
but  the  bridles.' 

" '  Now,'  said  I,  turning  to  the  old  trapper  again, 
'  tell  me  how  it  happened,  when  they  took  her  and 
which  way,  and  tell  me  quick ! ' 

" '  It  war  'bout  a  hour  ago,  nigh,  I  sh'd  reckon,'  he 
answered ;  '  the  leetle  thing  run  round  back  o'  the 
cabin,  whilst  I  was  settin'  smokin'  in  front,  'n  'er  ma 
wus  a-workin'  at  'er  ir'nin'  inside.  We  didn't  notice 
'bout  'er  bein'  gone  long,  'n'  purty  soon  I  'heerd,  or 
thought  I  heerd,  a  kin'  o'  smothery  screech  out  back 
to'rds  the  age  o'  the  woods.  I  run  roun*  an'  couldn' 
see  nothin'  o  the  babby  ner  nothin'  else,  'n'  es  I  wus  a 
lettle  scart,  I  called  to  'er  ma  ter  come  'n'  help  me  fin' 
the  young  un,  an'  said  I  guessed  she'd  strayed  off 
down  to'rds  the  creek.  That  scart  yer  wife  ter'ble,  'n' 
though  I  didn't  say  nothin'  'boot  Injuns,  I  knowed 
she  was  a-thinkin'  of  'em,  'n'  we  scattered  out  in  the 
woods. 

" '  Wal,  jedge,  we  hunted  'long  'nough  fer  me  to  run 
acrost  a  fraish  Injun  track  on  the  age  o'  a  gopher 
knoll.  I  didn't  say  nothin'  'boift  that  ter  the  wife 
though ;  but  she  jes  give  it  up  purty  quick,  'n'  says  she 
ter  me,  says  she,  "  Go  'n'  git  John  quick,  'n'  tell  'im 
the  Injuns  've  got  our  babby,"  'n'  then  she  p'inted  fer 
the  cabin,  a-weepin',  oh,  ter'ble! 

" '  An'  now,  jedge,'  he  went  on,  all  the  time,  in  a 
hopeless  tone  of  voice, '  I  don'  wanter  diskerridge  ye,  but 
it's  my  honest  opinyen  ye'll  navver  see  that  babby 
alive  agin.    Them  Injuns  is  sech  revenging  critters;  ! 
but  he  went  down  the  crick,  jedge,  'n'  you  wanter  go 


INDIAN  TALIS.  107 

up  crick ;  min'  now,  what  I  tell  ye,  up  crick  ter  their 
camp  'n'  thout  no  guns,  nor  we'pons  o'  any  kind ;  'n'  ef 
the  Injuns  is  thair,  ye  want  to  ride  right  in,  'n'  demand 
that  babby,  'n'  demand  'er  strong,  'n'  if  they've  got  'er 
alive,  ye'll  git  'er,  V  if  they  haint,  ye  won't/  and  with 
that  the  old  fellow  turned  and  stumped  off  towards 
the  house. 

"  By  this  time  Aleck  had  the  horses  ready  for  mount- 
ing and  was  waiting.  We  jumped  on  to  their  backs 
and  rode  off  up  the  river.  I  did  not  dare  wait  to  go 
and  see  my  wife ;  I  felt  that  I  must  and  would  find  my 
child  alive. 

"  I  do  not  think  Aleck  and  I  were  more  than  fifteen 
minutes  reaching  the  Indian  camp.  It  was  located  in 
a  beautiful  fur-oak  grove,  five  lodges,  or  tepees,  being- 
grouped  in  a  cluster  at  the  mouth  of  a  creek.  It  was 
dark,  and  the  camp-fires  were  flickering  in  front  of 
each  lodge  as  we  rode  up ;  and  we  could  see  a  number 
of  bucks,  squatted  smoking,  about  the  two  central  ones. 

"  They  paid  not  the  slightest  attention  to  us  until  I 
had  dismounted,  given  my  rein  to  Aleck  and  walked 
into  their  midst  I  looked  then,  over  quickly  and 
carefully,  as  I  answered  '  How  do s  to  their  grunted 
salutations,  and  soon  my  eye  fell  upon  the  identical 
Indian  whom  I  was  searching  for.  He  was  sitting 
with  his  face  turned  partly  away  from  the  fire,  and 
was  Rooking  doggedly  down  the  long  pipe-stem  at 
which  he  was  pulling  stolidly.  I  knew  his  ugly  visage 
instantly  and  stepped  in  front  of  him,  but  still  he  did 
not  lift  his  eyes. 

ei  ''Get  up  /'  I  commanded ;  and  Aleck  afterward  said 
that  my  words  sounded  like  the  click  of  a  gun-lock. 

"  The  Indian  sprang  to  his  feet  with  an  angry  grunt, 


108  INDIAN   TALES. 

and  looked  at  me  with  eyes  that  glowed,  in  the  fire- 
light, like  two  coals ;  while  his  companions  rose  to 
their  feet  also,  with  guttural  exclamations. 

"  '"Where  is  my  child,  my  little  girl?'  I  asked,  keeping 
my  voice  as  calm  as  I  could,  though  I  felt  it  quiver  as 
1  spoke. 

"  The  Indian  gave  an  impatient  shrug,  and  made  a 
gesture  of  not  understanding,  but  he  began  backing 
away  as  though  to  avoid  further  questioning. 

"  I  stepped  forward,  and  reached  out  my  hand  to  seize 
him  by  the  shoulder,  or  the  throat,  I  was  not  particular 
which,  and  as  I  did  so  I  heard  Aleck's  voice,  sharp  and 
keen  with  warning : 

"'  Judge!  look  out!'  and  then  I  felt  a  stunning, 
crashing  sensation  in  my  head,  and  went  down  under  a 
blow  given  treacherously  by  an  Indian  behind  me.  .  . 

"  It  must  have  been  an  hour  or  more  before  I  came 
to  myself,  and  when  I  did  so  I  found  myself  upon  the 
ground  where  the  Musquakies  had  left  me,  whether  for 
dead  or  not,  I  never  knew.  The  Indians  had  pulled  up 
their  lodges,  mounted  their  ponies,  and  fled. 

"  When  I  had  recovered  enough  to  take  in  the  situ- 
ation, I  got  up,  and  staggered  off  toward  home.  I 
turned  so  dizzy,  sick  and  faint  a  dozen  times  before  I 
reached  home,  that  I  felt  certain  I  was  about  to  drop 
down  and  die ;  but  at  last  I  got  there,  and  opened  the 
door,  half  expecting  to  find  everybody  gone,  or  mur- 
dered, and  what  do  you  think  I  saw  ? 

"  There  was  my  wife,  sitting  in  our  old  rocking-chair, 
in  the  middle  of  the  floor,  holding  Susy  asleep  in  her 
arms! 

"  I  fainted  dead  away.  I  was  brought  to  my  senses 
by  old  Tad  and  my  wife,  who  had  worked  over  me  for 


INDIAN   TALES.  109 

a  long  time,  and  when  they  finally  got  me  so  that  I 
could  sit  up,  they  told  their  story. 

"About  an  hour  and  a  half,  as  they  judged,  after 
Aleck  and  I  had  started  for  the  Indian  camp,  as  my 
wife  lay  sobbing  on  the  bed,  and  the  old  trapper  sat 
gloomily  in  the  arm-chair,  they  heard  a  child's  voice, 
little  Susy's,  crying  at  the  door.  My  wife  flew  to 
it,  and  snatched  up  her  child,  and  old  Tad,  without 
waiting  an  instant,  snatched  his  cap  and  rifle,  and  fear- 
ing that  Aleck  and  I  had  got  into  trouble,  started  for  the 
Indian  camp.  He  found  the  camp  deserted,  but  did  not 
see  me,  and  then  came  back,  to  find  my  wife  working 
over  me,  and  almost  in  despair  of  my  life ! 

"  Where  Aleck  was,  they  did  not  know ;  but  he  soon 
came  in  to  inform  us,  and  with  him  came  several  men 
on  horses,  from  the  settlement  below,  where  he  had 
ridden  with  all  speed  to  bring  them  to  the  rescue. 

"  He  had  tried  to  warn  me  at  the  camp  as  the  red- 
skin who  struck  me  lifted  his  hatchet,  but  his  outcry 
was  raised  too  late.  He  had  seen  me  go  down,  struck 
by  the  flat  of  the  Indian's  hatchet ;  and  then,  as  a  num- 
ber of  them  turned  threateningly  toward  him,he  wheeled 
the  horse  around,  and  made  swiftly  across  the  '  Big 
Bend '  to  the  settlement  below.  He  hoped  to  rouse 
them,  and  cut  the  Indians  off,  as  he  correctly  guessed 
that  they  would  beat  a  quick  retreat.  He  had  not 
doubted  that  they  would  kill  me  out  of  revenge.  They 
were  all  surprised,  and  not  a  little  rejoiced,  at  the  turn 
of  events. 

"  We  did  not  pursue  the  Indians,  all  agreeing  that 
no  good  could  come  of  it  after  what  had  happened. 
By  a  good  deal  of  questioning  we  got  out  of  Susy,  that 
a  '  bad  black  man '  had  carried  her  away,  and  took  her 


110 


INDIAN  TALES. 


to  his  queer  house  where  the  '  naughty  folks '  fright- 
ened her  so  that  she  dared  not  'talk  or  cry,'  and  then 
that  '  after  a  while '  the  '  bad  black  man  brunged '  her 
'home  again/ 

"I  do  not  know  what  the  Indians  had  meant  to  do 
with  her;  but  after  what  had  happened  at  their  camp, 
they  no  doubt  feared  either  to  keep  her,  or  harm  her, 
and  so  had  brought  our  child  back  to  us. 

"That  was  the  only  trouble  I  ever  had  with  Indians, 
and  was  the  last,  in  fact,  that  we  ever  saw  of  any  of 
those  Musquakies." 


WAPPER-JAW  JOHN. 

I  remember  "Wapper-Jaw  John,"  the  gray-haired 
Winnebago,  who,  when  I  was  a  boy,  used  occasionally 
to  visit  the  neighborhood  in  which  I  lived.  Despite 
his  strikingly  deformed  and  ugly  face,  people  who  knew 
him  seemed  always  to  be  kindly  disposed  toward  him. 
They  bought  his  curiously-wrought  willow  and  splint 
baskets,  and  often  gave  him  food  and  a  night's  lodging. 

His  face  was  angular  and  deeply  wrinkled  ;  the  under 
jaw  was  set  with  a  curious  twist  on  one  side,  and  it 
twitched  and  grimaced  grotesquely  when  he  talked — and 
he  could  talk  only  brokenly. 

He  was  a  harmless  old  fellow,  with  a  good  deal  of 
shrewd  sense.  He  was  unlike  the  other  members  of  his 
tribe,  and  kept  apart  from  them.  The  other  Winne- 
bagoes,  so  far  as  we  knew  them,  were  worthless,  beg- 
ging vagabonds,  who  to  the  number  of  a  hundred  or 
more  visited  us  semi-annually. 

John  did  really  earn  an  honest  living,  and  was  never 

known  to  beg,  although,  like  other  wandering  Indians, 

he  carried  his  "  papers,"  a  lot  of  written  testimonials 

certifying  him  to  be  "  a  good  Indian."     Two  or  three 

of  these  precious  documents  were  of  considerable  length, 

and  they  narrated  John's  services  and  friendly  exploits 

in  behalf  of  white  people. in  times  of  Indian  outbreaks. 

He  carried  the  papers  in  a  beaded  buckskin  wallet  in  a 

pocket  that  he  had  made  for  this  purpose  in  the  breast 

of  his  coarse  shirt. 

m 


112  INDIAN  TALES. 

One  of  these  accounts  covered  several  foolscap  pages. 
It  was  written  in  a  close,  fine  hand  that  was  perfectly 
legible,  though  the  paper  was  yellow  with  age  and 
wear. 

I  remember  the  evident  pride  and  satisfaction  which 
John  displayed,  and  the  great  care  with  which  he 
handled  this  paper,  when,  occasionally,  he  presented  it 
to  some  member  of  our  family  to  be  read  or  inspected. 
He  always  got  it  out  when  he  came  where  there  were 
children  or  young  folks,  for  they  liked  to  hear  the  story 
repeated. 

At  this  date  I  cannot,  of  course,  remember  the 
exact  sentences  in  which  John's  narrator  had  told  of 
his  brave  and  humane  exploit,  but  the  incidents  are 
still  fresh  in  my  mind. 

It  was  in  June,  1832,  several  weeks  after  the  out- 
break of  the  Sacs  and  Foxes,  remembered  as  the  Black 
Hawk  "War,  that  Wapper-Jaw  John  rendered  heroic 
service  to  a  venturous  little  family  of  settlers  in  one  of 
the  narrow  valleys  among  the  bluffs  opposite  Saulj 
Prairie.  At  this  time,  according  to  Smith's  "  History 
of  Wisconsin,"  the  Sacs  and  Foxes — 

"Had  scattered  their  war  parties  all  over  the  North, 
from  Chicago  to  Galena,  and  from  the  Illinois  rive? 
into  the  Territory  of  Wisconsin.  They  occupied  every 
grove,  waylaid  every  road,  hung  around  every  settle- 
ment, and  attacked  every  party  of  white  men  that 
attempted  to  penetrate  the  country." 

This  condition  of  affairs  had  lasted  nearly  a  month, 
compelling  settlers  on  all  hands  to  gather  themselves 
and  their  effects  at  fortified  points  and  into  hastily 
constructed  block-houses.  Yet  in  this  perilous  time 
one  family,  a  young  man  and  his  wife  and  child,  whose 


INDIAN  TALES.  113 

home  was  upon  the  extreme  northern  frontier,  were 
living  in  complete  ignorance  that  there  was  any  Indian 
outbreak. 

Early  in  the  previous  April  James  Streeter  had 
moved  up  from  northern  Illinois  with  his  small  family, 
and  had  settled  upon  a  squatter  claim  in  a  pocket  of 
the  Black  Earth  Valley.  He  had  the  property  usually 
possessed  by  the  "mover  "  upon  the  frontiers  in  those 
days ;  it  consisting  of  a  yoke  of  oxen  and  a  wagon,  a 
cow  or  two,  some  chickens,  and  a  few  simple  house- 
hold utensils. 

After  their  arrival  upon  the  claim,  the  young  settler 
i  and  his  wife  were  kept  so  busy  in  building  a  small  cabin, 
and  in  clearing,  breaking  up  and  planting  a  small  patch 
of  ground,  that  they  found  no  time  to  cultivate 
acquaintances  in  a  region  where  their  nearest  neigh- 
bors were  nearly  twenty  miles  distant. 

As  the  coming  of  this  family  into  the  region  was 
unknown  to'  the  other  settlers,  its  members  failed  to 
receive  warning  from  the  couriers  who  spread  the  news 
of  Black  Hawk's  uprising  among  the  hills  south  of  the 
Wisconsin  river.  Fortunately  for  the  Streeter  family,  - 
its  whereabouts  was  also  unknown  ttrthe  hostile  Indians, 
the  cabin  being  a  little  beyond  their  usual  range  of 
attack.  '  _ 

The  husband  and  wife  worked  on  undisturbed  until  a 
cabin  had  been  built,  and  three  acres  of  ground  thor- 
oughly broken  up  and  planted  to  corn,  potatoes  and 
garden  seeds.  The  plants  had  come  up,  and  had  been 
hoed  once,  when  the  couple  found  that  their  small  stock 
of  provisions  was  nearly  exhausted. 

The  nearest  market  for  the  Streeters  was  Dodge- 
ville,  more  than  twenty  miles  distant  from  their  claim. 


114  INDIAN  TALES. 

It  was  necessary  that  one  of  the  couple  should  stay  at 
home  to  watch  the  cows  and  the  growing  crops,  and 
Mr.  Streeter  set  out  alone  for  Dodgeville,  with  oxen 
and  wagon,  to  get  flour  and  other  needed  articles. 

He  started  on  his  journey  just  after  sunrise  one 
morning.  His  wife  finished  her  morning's  work  about 
the  cabin,  and  went  out  with  a  hoe  to  work  in  the 
field,  taking  with  her  the  child,  a  little  girl  four  years 
of  age. 

Though  living  miles  from  any  neighbors,  the  hardy 
women  of  those  days  often  stayed  alone  while  their 
husbands  were  gone  for  days,  and  sometimes  for  weeks, 
upon  hunting  or  trapping  excursions,  or  to  distant 
marketing  points. 

Mrs.  Streeter  worked  for  some  hours  "  hilling  up  " 
young  potato  vines,  while  Elsie,  the  little  girl,  played 
with  a  small  kitten,  their  one  domestic  pet.  "With  a 
sudden  scream,  the  child  came  running  to  her  mother, 
and  caught  her  by  the  dress.  Mrs.  Streeter  looked 
about  in  alarm,  fearing  that  a  rattlesnake  had  bitten 
the  child,  and  discovered  the  cause  of  her  fright  to  be 
an  Indian  who  had  come  out  of  the  brush  a  few  rods 
distant,  and  was  approaching  them. 

Although  she  was  not  afraid  of  Indians,  she  was 
annoyed  that  one  of  them  should  come_  while  her 
husband  was  away.  She  knew  that  often  they  were 
lawless  and  thieving  when  they  discovered  women 
alone. 

As  the  Indian  came  toward  her,  his  face  mowed  and 
grinned  so  curiously  that  she  felt  an  impulse  to  laugh 
until  she  saw  that  its  expression  came  from  a  deformity. 

"  Hoogh-oogh  !  "  he  grunted,  as  he  came  up.  "  You 
go,  you  squaw,  guck  a  chee  heap  klick  1    You  go  longa 


INDIAN  TALES,  115 

me!  Heap  Injun  comin'l"  and  he  pointed  up  the 
valley.  "  We  go  yonder ! "  pointing  this  time  toward 
the  Wisconsin. 

The  woman  was  frightened  at  his  words  and  manner, 
notwithstanding  that  he  tried  to  laugh  and  look  as 
pleasant  as  his  queer  features  would  permit,  ancLthough 
he  had  no  weapons  in  sight. 

"  Men  kill  heap.  Me  no  hurt.  You  go.  We  heap 
puck  a  chee"  and  he  reached  down  to  pick  up  the  child. 

The  little  girl  screamed  with  terror,  and  Mrs.  Streeter 
caught  her  up  and  stepped  back. 

"No,  I  will  not  go  with  you !  "  said  she.  "You're  a 
bad  Injun,  and  you're  lying  to  me ! "  She  had  quickly 
concluded  that  the  Indian  merely  wished  to  entice  her 
away  while  his  companions  pillaged  the  premises. 

Again  the  Winnebago— for  it  was  John— tried  to 
explain  to  her  that  he  meant  to  be  friendly,  and  to  aid 
her  to  escape  from  danger. 

"  Heap  Outagamie/  "  (Fox  Indians)  said  he.  " Men 
come,  shoot,  kill.  Kill  papoose,  kill  white  squaw. 
Squaw  go  me,  so,"  and  again  he  motioned  toward  the 
river,  and,  by  imitating  the  act  of  paddling  and  by 
sweeping  his  hand  forward,  signified  that  he  would  take 
her  across  it  in  his  canoe. 

-  "  No,  you  go  and  leave  me ! "  said  the  woman,  sternly. 
"I  won't  go  with  you.  Go!"  she  repeated,  pointing 
toward  the  woods,  and  then  she  turned,  with  the  little 
girl  in  her  arms,  and  started  toward  the  cabin. 

Instantly  the  Indian  sprang  foward,  then  snatched 
the  child  from  her,  and,  catching  her  by  the  shoulders, 
forced  her  down  to  the  ground  upon  her  face,  and 
quickly  tied  her  arms.  He  had  evidently  come  pre- 
pared to  carry  out  his  plan  by  force?  if  necessary,  and 


116  -  INDIAN  TALES. 

the  poor  woman  felt  that  her  instinct  had  been  true. 
Not  daring  to  struggle,  she  submitted  to  be  bound  a 
captive. 

Elsie,  the  little  girl,  had  started  to  run  into  the 
woods,  but  John  caught  her,  and  took  her,  screaming, 
into  his  arms.  He  walked  quickly  back  with  her  to 
Mrs.  Streeter,  who  had  risen,  after  a  struggle,  to  her 
feet. 

"  Come,"  said  he.  "  You  go  longa  me  now,  heap 
klick !  Me  take  papoose.  We  fuck  a  chee,"  and  he 
started  toward  the  river,  beckoning  her  to  follow.  He 
had  Elsie  in  his  arms,  and  there  was  nothing  for  the  now 
thoroughly  frightened  and  trembling  woman  to  do  but 
to  go  with  him. 

It  was  several  miles  to  the  river.  The  "Winnebago 
hurried  forward  at  a  half  trot,  the  child  crying  pite- 
ously  at  every  step,  while  the  distressed  mother, 
nearly  out  of  breath,  kept  close  at  his  heels,  trying  to 
cheer  her  little  girl  with  words  of  affection.  John  was 
probably  too  stolid  to  care  greatly  for  the  papoose's 
wailing,  or  for  its  mother's  distress  of  mind,  but  he  was 
intent  upon  doing  them  a  friendly  service,  and  no 
doubt  was  carrying  it  out  with  as  much  kindness  as  he 
was  capable  of  exercising. 

At  a  little  after  noonday  they  came  to  the  river  at 
the  mouth  of  a  creek,  and  here  John  put  down  the 
child,  which  he  had  carried  and  led  alternately,  and 
going  into  the  edge  of  a  willow  thicket  upon  the  bank, 
dragged  out  a  long  canoe,  which  contained  a  gun  and 
some  blankets.  The  canoe  he  slid  down  into  the 
water,  and  ordered  Mrs.  Streeter  to  get  down  the 
bank  and  step  into  it. 

With  her  hands  bound  as  they  were,  she  found  it 


INDIAN  TALES.  117 

difficult  to  get  into  and  sit  down  in  the  "  tittlish  "  nar- 
row trough,  but  she  finally  managed,  without  tipping 
it  over,  to  take  her  place  in  the  bow  of  the  slight 
craft. 

The  Indian  then  carefully  placed  Elsie  upon  her 
knees  in  the  centre  of  the  canoe.  "  No  touch  um,"  he 
commanded,  tapping  the  sides  of  the  canoe.  "Keep  a 
heap  still."  The  little  girl,  tired  and  subdued,  dared 
not  so  much  as  stir.  Then  John  picked  up  a  paddle 
which  he  had  laid  upon  tho  bank,  got  carefully  into 
the  canoe  at  the  stern,  shoved  out  into  the  river,  and 
paddled  the  frail  craft  swiftly  down  the  stream. 

The  anguish  of  the  poor  woman  was  keen  as  she 
thought  of  the  husband  who  had  so  recently  been  with 
her,  and  of  the  uncertain  fate  of  her  little  child  and 
herself.  She  could  not  believe  the  Indian's  story  that 
he  was  rescuing  them  from  danger.  His  violence  and 
his  rapid  retreat,  and  this  journey  upon  the  river,  lead- 
ing to  the  west  and  away  from  the  white  settlement, 
could  to  her  mind  mean  Only  that  he  was  carrying 
them  away  into  that  wretched  captivity  which  she 
knew  that  more  than  one  woman  and  child  had  suffered 
at  the  hands  of  savages. 

Brave  woman  though  she  was,  she  gave  herself  up  to 
despair. 

All  that  day  the  canoe  sped  rapidly  down  stream, 
keeping  as  close  under  the  bank  as  possible,  and  it  was 
not  until  after  sundown  that  John  landed  and  got  his 
captives  out  upon  the  bank  where  they  could  rest  their 
cramped  limbs.  He  then  undid  a  roll  of  blankets  and 
got  out  some  dried  meat,  which  he  offered  to  Mrs. 
Streeter,  motioning  that  the  papoose  could  feed  her. 
The  woman  could  not  eat,  but  by  coaxing  induced  the 


118  INDIAN  TALES. 

tired  and  hungry  little  girl  to  swallow  a  few  scraps  of 
the  raw,  tasteless  venison. 

After  a  time  the  Indian  untied  Mrs.  Streeter's  hands, 
being  careful  to  keep  between  her  and  his  gun.  Then 
he  motioned  to  the  blankets. 

"  Squaw  make  urn  bed,"  said  he ;  "  heap  sleep." 

Glad  of  so  much  freedom  and  a  chance  to  rest  and 
to  comfort  her  child,  Mrs.  Streeter  made  a  rough 
couch,  took  Elsie  in  her  arms  and  lay  down  upon  it. 
The  little  girl  was  soon  asleep,  but  the  mother  lay  nar- 
rowly watching  the  Indian,  waiting  for  a  chance  to 
escape  if  he  should  drop  asleep  or  relax  his  guard  in 
any  way. 

She  got  no  opportunity,  however ;  John  sat  near  at 
hand,  leaning  against  a  tree,  stiff  and  upright,  with  his 
gun  across  his  legs.  After  about  two  hours  of  rest,  he 
ordered  her  to  get  up  again  and  get  into  the  boat,  tell- 
ing her  to  "  take  papoose." 

She  carried  the  sleeping  child  down  the  bank,  and 
while  the  Indian  steadied  the  canoe  at  the  stern,  got  in 
at  the  bow.  John  threw  in  the  blankets,  got  in,  put 
his  gun  between  his  knees,  and  took  up  the  paddles. 
All  night  they  floated  swiftly  down  the  river,  the.  long, 
steady  sweep  of  the  Indian's  paddle  doubling  the  rate 
at  which  the  canoe  was  borne  by  the  rapid  current. 

Mrs.  Streeter  endured  her  anxiety  and  fatigue  as 
bravely  as  she  could,  not  daring,  on  account  of  her 
child,  to  make  any  demonstrations ;  but  she  was  all  the 
time  on  the  watch  for  a  chance  to  escape  from  her 
captor. 

At  a  little  after  sunrise  the  "Winnebago  landed  upon 
a  bar  at  the  north  bank,  and  ordered  her  to  get  out  of 
the  canoe.     After  carrying  Elsie  asleep  in  her  arms  all 


INDIAN   TALES.  119 

night,  she  found  her  own  limbs  to  be  so  cramped  and 
stiff  that  at  first  it  was  impossible  to  use  them.  Seeing 
her  condition  the  Indian  swung  the  stern  round,  dragged 
the  canoe  out  upon  the  bar,  and  helped  her  out. 

He  now,  for  the  first  time,  aroused  in  her  a  little 
hope  by  saying :  "  Heap  white  mans,  heap  soje,"  point- 
ing to  the  northwest.  "  Walk,  sun  so,"  showing  her 
where  the  sun  would  be  when  their  journey  should* 
end.  He  again  offered  his  captives  the  dried  meat, 
and  the  pangs  of  hunger  compelled  both  woman  and 
child  to  make  a  hearty  meal. 

After  they  had  rested  awhile  and  got  the  cramp  out 
of  their  legs  and  arms,  the  Indian  pointed  out  the 
direction  in  which  they  were  to  go,  And  ordered  Mrs. 
Streeter  to  walk  ahead  and  lead  the  little  girl.  He  let 
them  walk  slowly,  keeping  a  rod  or  two  behind  them, 
with  his  gun  and  blankets.  After  three  hours  of 
tramping  they  came  out  of  the  woods  upon  a  hill  over- 
looking a  broad  valley — the  Mississippi  Yalley — and 
then  the  Indian  came  eagerly  forward. 

"  See,"  he  said,  his  face  grinning  and  working  with 
evident  pleasure  as  he  pointed  to  a  distant  cluster  of 
buildings  upon  the  bank  of  a  wide  river  which  lay  in 
front  of  them.     "  See,  Plata  doo  shang  !  " 

It  was  the  frontier  fort  and  trading  post  of  Prairie 
du  Ghien.  Mrs.  Streeter  had  heard  of  this  place,  but 
had  known  only  vaguely  where  it  was  situated. 

She  now  perceived  that  her  captor  had  intended  all 
his  acts  in  friendliness.  An  hour  later  she  and  her 
child  were  safely  housed  at  the  fort,  and  her  delight 
and  thankfulness  at  this  outcome  to  her  adventure  may 
be  imagined. 

Mrs.  Streeter's  alarm  for  her  husband's  safety  was 


120 


INDIAN   TALES. 


great  until  John,  whose  services  were  again  secured, 
made  a  trip  to  Dodgeville  and  brought  him  across  the 
country  to  her.  Mr.  Streeter  had  discovered  their 
danger,  .from  meeting  a  body  of  soldiers  on  the  second 
morning  after  his  departure  from  home.  They  had 
accompanied  him  hastily  back  to  his  cabin,  only  to  find 
it  burned  down  and  the  premises  deserted.  He  had 
mourned  his  wife  and  child  as  dead  until  word  was 
brought  by  the  Winnebago  of  their  rescue  and  safety. 


XIII. 

A  DESPERATE  ESCAPE. 

The  dreadful  Indian  massacre  of  '62  depopulated 
whole  counties  of  newly  settled  territory  in  a  single  day 
—the  18th  of  August— and  drove  from  the  Minnesota 
frontiers  thousands  of  people  in  a  few  days'  time. 

During  this  eventful  period  there  were  many  thrilling 
and  desperate  adventures  and  hairbreadth  escapes.  The 
local  historians  who  published  narratives  gathered  at 
haphazard  at  the  time,  did  all  they  could  to  cover  the 
ground  of  incident.  The  main  facts  and  causes  of  the 
bloody  uprising  have  been  compiled  and  preserved  in 
several  volumes  published  at  St.  Peter  and  St.  Paul. 

In  one  of  these*,  several  paragraphs  are  devoted  to 
the  murder  of  the  men  in  charge  of  the  stores  at  the 
isolated  trading  post  on  the  eastern  shore  of  Big 
Stone  Lake.  This  account  briefly  relates  the  desperate 
escape  of  a  French  and  Indian  boy,  Baptiste  or  "  Bat" 
Gubeau — as  this  common  name  among  the  Canadian 
French  is  frequently  abbreviated. 

In  the  Minnesota  massacre  it  was  Little  Crow's  ruth- 
less policy  to  exterminate  all  the  the  whites  west  of  the 
Mississippi.  Every  one  with  white  blood  in  his  veins 
who  could  not  or  would  not  take  part  against  the 
settlers  was  to  be  killed.  Contrary  to  the  usual  rule  in 
Indian  wars,  the  fur-trader,  from  the  very  circumstance 
that  he  fancied  he  was  safe,  fell  a  swift  and  easy  victim 
to  the  rifle  and  hatchet  of  the  Sioux. 

*  Indian  Massacre  in  Minnesota,  by  C.  S.  Bryant,  pages  150-151. 

121 


122  INDIAN   TALES. 

All  the  employes  of  the  four  stores  and  warehouses 

at  Big  Stone,  My  rick's,  Forbe's,  Eobert's,  Pratt  &  Co.'s, 
were  either  French  hdbitans  or  half  and  quarter  bloods 
of  that  extraction.  Among  those  of  mixed  blood  was 
the  "  warehouse  boy,"  Bat  Gubeau. 

On  the  21st  of  August  four  of  Eobert's  men,  Bat  and 
three  Canadians,  Patnode,  Laundre  and  Pachette,  were 
cutting  hay  on  a  marsh  near  the  lake  shore  below  the 
post.  They  were  at  work  in  their  loose  shirts  and 
leggins,  mowing  with  scythes,  one  following  the  other. 
Without  a  second's  warning  a  party  of  "Blanket" 
Sioux  came  up  out  of  the  tall  grass  a  few  rods  distant 
and  began  firing  upon  them.  Patnode,  Pachette  and 
Laundre,  who  were  ahead  of  Bat  and  most  exposed  to 
the  Indian  fire,  were  killed  almost  at  the  first  shot. 

Young  Gubeau  saved  his  life  from  their  fire  by  quick- 
wittedly  throwing  himself  on  his  face  as  though  shot, 
lying  across  the  swath  and  blade  of  his  scythe. 

The  Indians  scalped  his  comrades  and  stripped  them 
of  their  hats  and  shoes  ;  then  several  of  them  came  to 
him  and  turned  him  over.  He  knew  his  captors  well, 
and  could  understand  their  language  almost  as  well  as 
the  patois  of  his  Canadian  parents. 

"Don't  kill  me,"  said  he.  "  Why  did  you  shoot  those 
men  ?    They  were  always  your  friends." 

"We  killed  them,"  one  replied,  with  black  looks, 
"  because  all  whites  and  fur  men  have  always  cheated 
and  lied  to  the  Indians,  and  we'll  kill  you  because  you 
are  a  dog  of  a  mixed  blood.  We  shall  kill  you  when 
the  sun  goes  down,  after  a  scalp-dance,  and  after  the 
squaws  have  burned  the  Indian  blood  out  of  your  body 
with  brands  from  their  fires." 


INDIAN  TALES.  123 

This  is,  in  effect,  what  the  savages  said,  as  near  as 
Baptiste  could  interpret  it  in  his  broken  English. 

The  speaker  was  a  Wapekuta  medicine  man,  well 
known  at  the  trading  post  as  a  malignant  hater  of  the 
white  men  and  a  constant  fomenter  of  bad-feeling 
among  his  own  people. 

"While  two  of  the  Indians  were  tying  Bat's  hands 
behind  him  with  strips  of  buckskin,  the  medicine  man 
began  prancing  around  and  telling,  in  a  boastful  chant, 
the  murders  which  had  been  committed  upon  the  white 
settlers  at  the  Lower  agency,  at  Beaver  Creek  and  Birch 
Coolie.  He  sang  boastfully  that  but  two  suns  more 
would  pass  before  every  white  man  west  of  Minnehaha 
would  die.  The  Sioux  nation,  possessed  of  the  guns 
and  ammunition  taken  from  the  dead  settlers  and 
soldiers,  could  hold  its  country  and  beat  back  the 
white  people  always.  Then  he  warmed  up  and  began 
recounting,  after  the  whooping,  sing-song  fashion  of  his 
kind,  the  exploits  of  himself  and  the  others  with  him. 

The  possession  of  a  prisoner  who  could  understand 
their  peculiar  chants  and  the  braggings  in  which  they 
so  liked  to  indulge  was  unusual  good  fortune.  The 
vauntings  of  the  medicine  man  seemed  to  act  upon  the 
savages  like  the  baneful  charm  some  reptiles  are  said 
to  exercise.  One  by  one  they  threw  aside  their  weapons 
and  joined  the  medicine  man  in  his  weird  leaps  and 
chantings  about  the  prisoner. 

Bat  said  not  a  word,  but  sat  quietly,  his  shrewd  eyes 
watching  for  a  chance  to  break  through  the  ring  and 
escape.  He  was  strong,  lithe,  and  a  swift  runner,  and 
a  plan  of  action  soon  came  to  him.  He  felt  that  it  was 
desperate  enough,  but  it  was  his  only  chance. 

A  bayou  or  narrow  bay  ran  up  from  the  lake  into 


124  INDIAN    TALES. 

the  marsh  upon  which  he  and  his  companions  had  been 
cutting  hay,  and  the  head  of  it  was  distant  not  more 
than  a  ten  minute's  run.  This  strip  of  water  was 
grown  thickly  about  with  rushes,  and  was  from  four  to 
six  feet  deep. 

If  be  could  break  away,  escape  his  pursuers'  shots 
and  outrun  them,  he  thought  he  might  find  a  hiding- 
place  among  the  rushes  until  night  should  come  on. 

About  the  time  he  had  canvassed  the  chances  of  this 
plan,  the  Indians  about  him  had  begun  to  wind  up  their 
dancing,  with  a  peculiar  gyrating  movement  known 
among  them  as  the  Moon-Dance.  In  it  the  dancers 
wheel  slowly  about  bow-leggedly,  tetering  first  upon 
one  foot  and  then  upon  the  other,  and  swaying  the  body 
from  the  hips  in  a  snake-like  movement.  The  head  is 
rolled  in  imitation  of  a  lolling  bear  and  the  arms  are 
worked  writhingly  while  the  wriggling  savage  sings,  in 
a  most  lugubrious,  grunting  tone :  "  E-yungh,  e-yungh  ! 
Hi-yee,  hi-yer  !  E-yongh,  e-yongh  !  " 

The  prisoner  kept  his  eye  upon  one  of  the  Indians, 
whom  he  knew — for  he  knew  them  all  well — to  be  the 
best  runner  among  them.  As  this  one  swung  around 
between  himself  and  the  line  of  retreat  he  had  marked 
out,  Bat  sprang  up  and  with  an  agile  jump  planted 
both  heels  of  the  army  shoes  he  wore  in  the  "  small " 
of  the  dancer's  back. 

The  Indian  went  down  with  a  screech  of  pain  and 
surprise,  as  the  keen-witted  Canadian  passed  over  him 
and  shot  away  toward  the  lake. 

Certain  that  he  had  disabled  their  swiftest  runner, 
Bat  felt  chiefly  concerned  for  the  moment  in  dodging 
bullets  and  arrows.     He  sprang  this  way  and  that  at  as 


INDIAN  TALES.  125 

sharp  angles  as  he  could,  and  at  the  same  time  make 
good  headway. 

The  Indians  caught  up  their  guns  instantly  upon 
seeing  what  had  happened,  but  luckily  only  a  few  of 
their  arms  had  been  reloaded,  and  the  shots  aimed  by 
Indians,  breathless  with  the  exertion  of  a  shrieking 
dance,  missed  their  target.  Throwing  down  their  guns, 
the  whole  party  gave  chase,  yelling  frightfully,  as  is 
their  fashion. 

Bat  glanced  backward,  and  saw  then  spreading  out 
in  pursuit,  the  swiftest  runners  heading  straight  for  the 
bayou  on  either  side.  As  there  was  no  longer  any  dan- 
ger from  bullets,  the  boy  put  himself  down  to  his 
utmost  speed,  and  bent  his  head  toward  the  nearest 
point  of  rushes.  He  was  hampered  by  having~Tiis 
hands  tied  behind,  and  the  triumphant  yells,  which 
sounded  a  little  louder  at  each  passing  minute,  caused 
him  to  fear  greatly  that  they  would  overtake  him. 

Over  mowed  ground,  through  tall  grass  for  several 
minutes  he  ran  like  an  antelope.  He  had  gained  a 
number  of  rods  the  start  of  the  Indians  while  they  were 
picking  up  their  guns  and  firing,  and  this  advantage 
was  what  saved  his  life.  He  reached  the  low  bank  of 
the  inlet  in  advance  of  the  foremost  Sioux,  but  so  near 
were  they  that,  as  he  plunged  among  the  rushes,  a 
hatchet  thrown  by  one  of  them  switched  past  his  head 
and  dropped  into  the  water  in  front. 

He  threw  himself  headlong  into  the  water,  and  dived 
amid  the  rushes.  Then  he  pushed  himself  along  by 
kicking  in  the  mud  at  the  bottom.  When  his  breath 
gave  out,  he  raised  his  head  out  long  enough  to  get  a 
fresh  breath,  then  ducked  it  and  shoved  ahead. 

In  this  way  he  was  speedily  out  of  sight  and  reach  of 


126  INDIAN  TALES. 

the  Sioux,  who  did  not  follow  him  into  the  rushes.  His 
pursuers  spread  out,  and  hurriedly  surrounded  the 
bayou  in  the  hope,  no  doubt,  to  catch  him  in  the  grass 
as  he  attempted  to  crawl  out  upon  the  other  side. 

But  Bat  had  no  notion  of  going  out  of  the  bayou  at 
present.  He  found  bottom  shallow  enough  to  stand 
upon,  and  then  began  working  his  wrists  out  of  the 
thongs  which  bound  them.  This  he  was  soon  able  to 
do,  as  the  water-soaked  buckskin  stretched  at  every 
strain. 

He  then  waited  and  listened.  Soon  he  heard  Indians 
talking  upon  the  bank  of  the  bayou  opposite  his  entrance. 
They  were  looking  for  his  trail  at  the  edge  of  the 
water,  and  asking  each  other  if  he  had  crossed,  and 
which  way  he  would  go.  Finally  one  of  them  said, 
"  No,  Jhe's  in  there ;  the  dog  will  not  come  out."  Then 
all  was  quiet. 

Bat  would  not  stir  again,  for  fear  he  should  be  dis- 
covered by  the  rattling  of  the  rushes.  The  time  wore 
on  heavily.  Toward  night  mosquitoes  rose  out  of  the 
water,  and  pestered  him  frightfully.  He  dared  not 
thresh  about,  for  fear  his  whereabouts  should  be  dis- 
covered and  fired  upon  by  lurking  Indians.  "Bullets 
and  buckshot  were  to  be  dreaded,  even  though  rushes 
enough  intervened  to  hide  him  completely,  although 
the  bank  was  only  a  few  rods  distant  on  either  side. 

As  the  vicious  insects  alighted  upon  his  face  and  neck 
in  swarms,  he  discovered  a  method  of  alleviating  his 
sufferings.  Every  few  seconds,  as  his  face  became  black 
with  them,  and  their  stings  began  to  make  him  wince, 
he  would  quickly  and  softly  lower  his  head  under 
water,  and  hold  it  there  as  long  as  he  could  Jteep  his 
breath.    The  cool  water  soothed  the  irritation  of  their 


INDIAN   TALES. 


127 


80011  he  heard  Indians 


128  INDIAJS  TALES. 

bites,  and  gave  him  refuge  from  them  a  good  part  of 
the  time. 

Darkness  came  at  last,  and  with  it  a  breeze  which 
rustled  the  rushes,  so  that  he  could  stir  about  without 
attracting  attention  by  noise.  He  now  speedily  made 
use  of  his  legs  and  arms  in  working  his  way  down 
nearer  the  lake,  where,  in  a  thicket  of  tall  cornstalk 
grass,  he  crawled  out  of  the  bayou,  feeling  stiff  and 
water-logged.     , 

He  lay  among  the  stalks  resting  and  listening  for  an 
hour  or  so,  and  then,  bending  low  in  the  grass,  made 
his  way  to  the  high  land  prairie,  a  mile  or  more  distant. 
Not  daring  to  attempt  to  reach  Fort  Eidgely  through 
the  country  which  he  had  learned  from  his  captors  was 
overrun  by  the  Sioux,  he  set  out  for  St.  Cloud,  nearly 
two  hundred  miles  distant  on  the  Mississippi. 

He  traveled  three  days  and  nights,  occasionally 
dodging  war  parties  of  Sioux.  During  that  time  he 
lived  upon  roots  and  grass;  these  he  chewed  and 
swallowed  the  juice.  At  length  he  walked  into  the 
streets  of  St.  Cloud.  There  was  a  large  gathering  61 
settlers  there,  and  the  buildings,  mostly  of  logs,  had 
been  fortified  and  put  in  a  state  of  defense. 

There  was  a  crowd  of  men  in  front  of  the  first  store 
he  reached  on  entering  the  village.  Faint  and 
exhausted,  Bat  pushed  through  them,  and  asked 
inside  for  something  to  eat.  A  number  of  settlers 
and  others  immediately  came  inside,  and  in  rough 
tones  asked  him  what  he,  a  half-breed — he  was  a 
quarter-blood — was  doing  among  the  whites.    - 

Bat  told  his  story  in  broken  English,  but  the  crowd, 
incensed  at  the  hundreds  of  murders  committed,  and 
the  loss  of  friends  and  relatives,  were  in  a  frenzied 


INDIAN  TALES.  129 

state  of  fury  at  the  sight  of  one  belonging  to  the  race 
which  had  committed  such  ravages. 

"  He's  a  miserable  spy ! "  shouted  one  of  them.  "  A 
sneakin'  Sioux,  come  among  us  to  see  how  many  they 
is  uv  us !    Let's  hang  him ! " 

Beardless,  more  than  naturally  swarthy  from  expos- 
ure, haggard  and  ugly  in  countenance  from  hunger  and 
fatigue,  Bat's  appearance  was  against  him.  The 
crowd  fiercely  took  up  the  cry,  "  Hang  him  !  " 

The  nearest  men  sprang  forward  and  secured  the 
unfortunate  fellow.  His  hands  were  speedily  tied 
with  cord ;  from  the  stock  of  goods  a  rope  was  pro- 
cured, and  he  was  hustled  out  of  the  store  by  the 
incensed  settlers,  who  declared  their  intention  of 
stringing  him  up  to  the  first  tree  on  the  river  bank. 
It  was  useless  to  plead  or  struggle,  and  despairingly  the 
poor  exhausted  youth  allowed  himself  to  be  dragged 
along  the  street.  But  a  villager,  who  had  the  year 
before  lived  at  Big  Stone,  pushed  into  the  crowd  to 
have  a  look  at  the  prisoner,  and  fortunately  recognized 
Bat  at  once. 

"Hullo!"  he  shouted.  "Stop  this,  men!  I  know 
that  boy.    He's  one  of  Robert  s  men  at  Bigi  Stone." 

This,  of  course,  put  an  immediate  end  to  the  pro- 
ceedings. An  innocent  life  had  nearly  been  sacrificed 
to  the  intense  feeling  wrought  up  over  the  treacher 
ous  and  wholesale  murders  so  recently  committed  by 
Indians  and  half-breeds  all  about  them. 

It  is  hardly  necessary  to  add  that  the  men  were 
sorry  enough  of  their  conduct  when  they  learned  of 
Bat's  innocence,  and  that  they  treated  him  afterward 
with  all  the  kindness  of  which  they  were  capable. 


XIV. 

BOYER'S   STRATAGEM. 

Prior  to  1857,  a  large  tract  of  lake  territory  lying 
between  the  Upper  Des  Moines  and  the  Big  Sioux 
Bivers  was  infested  by  one  of  the  most  villainous  bands 
of  Indian  outlaws  which  the  Indian  policy  of  the 
government  has  ever  called  into  being.  It  was  the 
band  of  eleven,  led  by  Inkpaduta — Scarlet  Point — who 
in  the  winter  of  '57,  massacred  a  half-hundred  settlers 
in  their  scattered  cabins  about  Okoboji,  Spirit  and 
Pelican  Lakes,  and  carried  a  number  of  women  into 
a  captivity  far  worse  than  death. 

These  Indians,  disaffected  Wapekuta  Sioux,  had  been 
outlawed  from  their  own  tribe  for  the  murder  of  their 
chief,  Tosagi.  They  were  the  pest  and  terror  of 
settlers  in  middle  and  western  Iowa  from  the  time 
that  scattering  colonies  first  came  in,  until  their  depre- 
dations and  atrocities  culminated  in  the  Spirit  Lake 
massacre.  On  that  occasion  whole  settlements  were 
annihilated,  their  inhabitants  being  generally  taken  by 
surprise,  and  killed  inside  their  snowbound  cabins. 

Previous  to  this  massacre,  which  resulted  in  the 
capture  and  punishment  of  a  part  of  them  and  the 
disbanding  of  the  rest,  these  Indians  subsisted  by  beg- 
.ging  and  plundering  among  the  frontier  settlements,  by 
hunting  and  fishing  about  the  Northern  lakes,  and  by 
a  sort  of  blackmail  upon  the  Wapekutas,  whose  village 
was  in  the  pipe-stone  region. 

The  village  of  Inkpaduta  was  on  the  Upper  Des 

130 


INDIAN  TALES.  131 

Moines,  near  the  Minnesota  line.,  It  was  more  than  a 
hundred  miles  from  any  settlement,  until  the  ill-fated 
squatters  of  the  Spirit  Lake  tragedy  settled  about  the 
lakes.  There  were  no  troops  stationed  within  a  week's 
march,  and  the  frontier  settlements  were  too  weak  and 
scattered  to  offer  organized  resistance. 

Occasionally  bold  trappers,  in  spite  of  numerous 
warnings  of  the  dangers,  established  and  maintained 
their  trapping  grounds  within  the  hunting  circuit  of 
Inkpaduta's  band.  Among  them  was  Jake  Boyer,  a 
fearless  frontiersman,  who  went  among  Indians  regard- 
less of  danger — one  of  the  sort  of  adventurers  whom, 
strangely  enough,  the  savages  seldom  molested. 

Jake  knew  Inkpaduta  and  his  followers.  He  visited 
their  village  every  fall  and  spring  to  trade  ammunition 
or  trinkets  for  furs. 

On  one  of  these  excursions  he  carried  a  double- 
barreled  rifle  which  he  had  bought  in  Dubuque.  It 
was  a  fine  weapon  of  German  pattern,  silver-mounted, 
and  had  cost  him  a  hundred  dollars.  The  Indians  were 
much  taken  with  this  gun,  and  one  of  them,  Feto 
Atanka— -Big  Face — wanted  to  swap  a  pony  for  it. 
Boyer  told  him  that  nothing  less  than  twenty -five  prime 
mink  skins  would  get  the  gun ;  that  when  he  could 
produce  so  many  whole  skins,  smooth  and  white  inside, 
he  would  swap.  These  terms  of  trade  were  made 
known  by  signs  and  by  the  use  of  such  simple  English 
words  as  the  Indians  understood. 

A  few  months  later,  in  autumn,  Boyer  was  visited  at 
his  cabin  on  the  Ocheyedan  by  several  of  Inkpaduta's 
band,  among  them  Husan— One  Leg,  Makpi  Opetu, 
— Fire  Cloud,  a  son  of  the  chief,  and  Big  Face.  Boyer 
found  them  squatted  in  front  of  his  dug-out  upon  the 


132  INDIAN   TALES. 

side  of  a  bluff,  as  he  came  in  from  a  morning  round  of 
his  traps.  They  rose  as  he  approached  with  his  rifle 
across  his  shoulder.  After  a  friendly  round  of  "  How- 
Hows!  "  Big  Face  drew  from  his  blanket  a  bundle  of 
black-looking  skins.  "  Huh !  "  said  he.  "  Me  bling  um 
mink,  you  give  um  up  gun." 

Jake  saw  at  once  that  the  mink  were  warm-weather 
skins  and  worthless.  No  doubt  they  were  the  pelts  of 
all  the  minks  taken  or  shot  by  the  members  of  the  band 
during  the  summer  and  early  fall  months,  and  had  been 
entrusted  to  Big  Face  in  order  that  so  fine  a  rifle  might 
belong  to  one  of  the  band. 

The  trapper  drew  back,  and  shook  his  head  in 
refusal  to  receive  the  skins.  He  was  about  to  explain, 
what  they  perfectly  knew  to  be  true,  that  the  pelts 
were  of  no  account,  when,  with  a  sudden  spring,  Big 
Face  was  upon  him.  The  others  instantly  sprang  for- 
ward also,  and  Boyer's  rifle  was  wrenched  from  him. 
When  he  was  forced  to  let  go  his  gun,  he  dodged 
quickly  into  a  thicket  of  bushes  which  grew  up  to  the 
door  of  his  habitation. 

The  Indians  fired  several  shots  after  him,  but  he  was 
not  harmed.  He  reached  his  canoe,  in  which  he  kept 
a  squirrel  rifle  for  shooting  muskrat  and  other  small 
game,  'secured  the  weapon,  and  made  his  escape 
through  the  tall  grass  of  the  bottom,  whither  the 
Indians  did  not  pursue  him. 

He  made  his  way  to  a  settlement  sixty  miles  distant, 
and  tried  to  raise  a  party  to  go  and  hunt  Inkpaduta's 
band,  and  drive  them  out  of  the  region ;  but  he  could 
not  find  half  a  dozen  men  within  a  circuit  of  thirty 
miles  who  had  interest  enough  in  his  cause  to  make  it 
their  own.     But  he  found  one  adventurous  fellow,  who 


INDIAN   TALES.  133 

went  back  with  him  to  his  trapping  grounds  on  the 
Ocheyedan.  Upon  reaching  the  dug-out,  they  found, 
to  their  surprise,  that  its  contents  had  not  been  dis- 
turbed. Lying  inside  the  door  was  the  identical  pack 
of  worthless  mink  skins  which  Big  Face  had  brought 
to  trade  for  the  rifle.  The  traps  were  also  all  in  their 
places. 

Evidently  the  Indians  had  been  somewhat  alarmed 
after  Jake's  escape,  and  wished  to  leave  the  impression 
that  they  had  been  dealing  in  good  faith,  and  had 
kept  to  the  letter  the  bargain  which  had  been  made 
for  the  gun. 

This  fact  gave  Boyer  confidence,  and  he  boldly  set 
about  his  trapping  again,  determined  to  watch  his 
opportunity,  outwit  the  Indians,  and  recover  his  val- 
uable rifle.  During  the  next  month  he  busied  his 
brain  every  day  with  schemes,  and  finally  hit  upon  a 
plan  which  he  determined  to  carry  out  at  once. 

Leaving  his  companion  in  charge  of  the  dug-out  and- 
the  trapping,  he  set  out  for  Fort  Dodge  with  two  small 
ponies  packed  with  the  fall  catch.  At  the  Fort,  which 
was  merely  a  frontier  trading  station,  he  sold  his  furs, 
procured  ammunition,  blankets  and  some  trinkets  to 
trade  upon,  and  set  out  for  Inkpaduta's  village,  as  he 
had  been  in  the  habit  of  doing  at  that  season  of  the 
year. 

In  spite  of  all  that  had  happened,  he  expected  to 
make  the  savages  believe  that  he  was  still  friendly  to 
them,  and  could  not  afford  to  lose  their  fur  trade  for 
such  trifles  as  the  loss  of  his  rifle  and  the  attempt  on 
his  life.  He  did  not  believe  they  would  dare  injure 
him  again,  for  they  would  surely  know  that  he  had 
spread  the  story  of  their  attack  upon  him  at  the  settle- 


134  INDIAN    TALES. 

ments,  and  his  going  to  them  directly  from  the  Fort 
would  naturally  make  them  cautious  how  they  offended 
him.  After  getting  among  them,  he  hoped  to  recover 
his  much  prized  rifle  by  a  stratagem. 

He  found  only  a  few  old  squaws  and  children  at  the 
Des  Moines  village,  but  was  informed  that  the  bucks 
were  camped  at  Lost  Island  Lake,  where  they  had  gone 
to  hunt  for  elk. 

It  was  but  a  half-day's  ride  to  the  place,  and  he 
discovered  the  tepees  of  the  band  as  he  approached  the 
lake  shore  at  sunset.  The  most  of  the  Indians  had  got 
in  from  the  day's  hunt,  and,  as  he  rode  up,  were  lying 
about  the  fires,  waiting  for  the  women  to  boil  some 
meat  for  their  evening  meal. 

They  got  up  and  gave  some  grunts  of  surprise  as  he 
approached,  but  immediately  broke  into  most  cordial 
"  How-How's ! "  and  grinned  in  a  way  that  betrayed 
their  pleasure-that  he  should  come  among  them  in  so 
friendly  a  fashion.  He  had  always  dealt  more  fairly 
with  them  than  traders  were  in  the  habit  of  doing. 

Big  Face,  One  Leg  and  Inkpaduta  were  among  those 
who  greeted  him.  He  shook  hands  with  all,  telling 
them  he  had  come  to  "  swap "  again,  and  acted  as 
though  nothing  had  happened.  They  were  immensely 
pleased,  and  •  one  of  the  young  bucks  assisted  him  in 
unpacking  and  then  picketed  his  nonies  with  their 
own. 

That  evening  and  the  next  morning  were  spent  in 
trade ;  and  for  a  half-dozen  red  blankets,  some  ammu- 
nition and  beads,  Jake  came  into  possession  of  all  the 
beaver,  mink  and  muskrat  skins  the  Indians  had. 

After  the  swap  had  been  completed  to  the  satisfaction 
of  all  parties,  Jake  proposed  to  Inkpaduta  that  he  and 


INDIAN   TALES.  135 

a  picked  number  of  Ms  mea  shoisld  ride  over  to  his 
tepee  on  the  Qcheyedan — a  little  more  than  a  half 
day's  ride— and  hunt  elk  at  the  head  waters  of  Stony 
Creek,  where  he  knew  that  a  big  herd  of  them  were 
feeding. 

He  had  no  winter's  meat  laid  in,  he  told  the  chief, 
and  since  he  had  traded  his  large  gun  to  Big  Face,  he 
had  no  rifle  that  carried  a  ball  large  enough  to  kill  an 
elk.  If  he  would  go  over  with  his  men  and  kill  him — 
Jake — two  big  elk,  he  would  give  the  chief  the  smallest 
pony  he  had  brought  with  him. 

Inkpaduta  was  taken  with  the  offer"  and  evidently 
took  all  the  trapper  had  said  in  sincerity.  He  consulted 
his  bucks  and  found  them  all  eager  to  go,  as  the  white 
man  had  described  the  herd  as  a  big  one. 

The  camp  was  hastily  struck  and  the  whole  party  set 
out  for  Jake's  headquarters,  where  they  arrived  that 
evening  and  camped  for  the  night.  Jake  had  told 
Inkpaduta  of  his  partner  who,  he  said,  had  no  gun  but 
an  old  musket  that  would  only  shoot  small  shot. 

That  night,  when  they  were  alone  in  the  dug-out, 
"Jake  instructed  Williams,  his  partner,  that  as  soon  as 
the  party  should  have  got  out  of  sight,  he  was  to  pack 
what  furs  he  could  on  the  pony  left  him,  cache  the  rest 
with  the  traps,  and  make  haste  for  the  nearest  settle- 
ment on  the  Little  Sioux. 

Next  day,  at  noon,  the  hunters  were  camped  near 
the  source  of  the  Stony,  and  scouts  were  sent  out  to 
look  for  the  elk  herd,  which  was  sighted  before  night. 

A  plan  of  the  hunt  was  determined  on  before  they 
slept,  and  as  Jake  was  consulted,  he  so  managed  that 
he  was  to  be  of  the  party.  They  were  to  go  in 
three  squads,  enclosing  the  band  in  a  triangle,  in 


J2MS  INDIAN   TALES. 

which  rode  Big  Face  with  Inkpaduta'  and  one  of  the 
chief's  sons,  Roaring  Cloud,  or  Makpeahotoman. 

Big  Face  had  made  no  attempt  to  conceal  the  rifle, 
which  was  still  in  his  possession;  in  fact  he  had  car- 
ried it  with  a  good  deal  of  flourish  and  display,  evi- 
dently proud  of  owning  such  a  piece  of  property. 

Before  daylight  next  morning  the  hunting  parties 
were  mounted,  and  circling  the  region  where  the  elk 
had  been  seen.  There  was  a  keen  wind  blowing  from 
the  northwest,  and  as  the  elk  were  in  that  direction 
the  herd  was  surrounded  without  difficulty':  Two  par- 
ties converged,  one  from  the  north,  another  from  the 
west,  and  the  third,  in  which  was  Jake,  moVed  slowly 
forward  from  the  southeast. 

It  was  the  plan  that  the  herd  should  be  driven 
toward  this  last  party,  who  were  to  rush  in  upon  their 
front  and  turn  them  about.  This  would  bring  the 
whole  hunting  party  upon  them. 

In  one  respect  the  plan  was  perfect.  At  about  sun- 
rise the  big  drove  was  seen  by  Inkpaduta's  party,  and 
Boyer  observed,  with  no  little  satisfaction,  that  the  elk 
were  coming  directly  toward  him. 

They  came  right  on  without  seeming  to  see  the 
hunters,  who  had  spread  a  little  and  lay  close  along 
the  backs  of  their  ponies. 

There  were  more  than  two  hundred  elk,  and  Boyer 
said  it  was  a  splendid  sight  to  see  them  come  on,  the 
bulls  in  the  lead ;  "  an  acre  of  branchin'  horns  ",  as  he 
expressed  it,  "  movin'  down  swift  like  the  front  of  the 
wind  in  a  blizzard." 

When  the  foremost  .elk  were  within  gunshot,  the 
Indians  straightened  up  and  with  loud  yells  dashed 
their  ponies  at  the  face  of  the  herd.    But  instead  of 


INDIAN  TALES.  137 

turning,  the  whole  bunch  spread  out  like  a  fan  and 
went  by  like  a  shot,  scattering  continually  as  they  sped 
on. 

The  Indians  whirled  their  ponies  and  gave  chase, 
having  fired  several  ineffective  shots,  and  as  each  selec- 
ted his  game  the  manoeuvre  drew  them  rapidly  apart. 
This  was  precisely  what  Boyer  had  hoped  for,  and  he 
followed  Big  Face,  keeping  him  all  the  time  in  view. 
The  Indian  soon  overtook  a  fat  cow-elk,  whose  calf  got 
in  her  way  and  impeded  her  progress.  Big  Face  rodar 
alongside,  shoved  the  muzzle  of  his  gun  almost  against 
the  cow's  side,  and  killed  her  instantly. 

He  had  fired  one  barrel  before,  and  with  a  whoop  he 
now  circled  his  pony  about,  sprang  to  the  ground  and 
stood  over  the  dead  elk,  evidently  satisfied  with  his 
morning's  work. 

This  was  not  what  Boyer  wanted  at  all,  for  there 
were  still  other  Indians  in  sight.  In  fact,  nearly  the 
whole  party  was  by  this  time  racing  along  in  pur- 
suit of  the  herd. 

But,  knowing  that  he  had  not  a  moment  to  spare  if 
he  would  allay  suspicion  and  catch  Big  Face  with 
unloaded  gun,  he  drew  up  alongside.  Quickly  dis- 
mounting, he  stepped  in  front  of  the  Indian  and 
covered  him  with  the  light  rifle,  which  he  had  not 
unloaded. 

"  Give  me  my  gun  or  I'll  shoot, "  said  the  trapper, 
sharply. 

Big  Face  saw  that  he  was  tricked,  and  that  Boyer 
had  the  best  of  him.  Like  all  of  his  kind  he  was  a 
coward  at  heart,  and  with  a  sickly  grin  of  fear  he  laid 
the  ill-gotten  rifle  against  the  elk's  body  and  stepped 
back. 


138  INDIAN   TALES. 

"  Now,  let  go  that  pony  and  walk  off  ? "  commanded 
Jake,  with  a  meaning  gesture.  The  Indian  obeyed  and 
hurried  away  toward  the  retreating  elk  at  a  pace  the 
meaning  of  which  Boyer  knew  well. 

Jake's  first  move  was  hastily  to  load  his  recovered 
rifle  with  heavy  charges,  having  kept  balls  in  his 
pockets  that  would  fit  the  bore.  Then  fastening  his 
small  rifle  to  the  saddle  of  the  pony  he  had  ridden,  and 
tying  that  animal  to-the  lariat  dragging  at  the  neck  of 
Big  Face's  pony,  he  mounted  the  Indian's  horse,  turned 
and  rode  northeast  toward  the  Minnesota  settlements, 
which  were  then  the  nearest  white  habitations. 

Just  as  he  started,  he  looked  back  over  his  shoulder 
and  saw  Big  Face  making  frantic  gestures  from  the 
top  of  a  knoll  about  a  hundred  rods  away.  But  the 
whole  party,  elk  and  all,  had  passed  out  of  sight  into 
the  valley  of  the  Stony,  and  the  last  that  Jake  ever 
saw  of  the  band,  as  he  spurred  his  pony  in  the  opposite 
direction,  was  the  outwitted  Big  Face  waving  his 
arms. 

It  was  a  daring  stratagem  which  had  secured  him  his 
rifle  and  a  "  pony  for  damage,"  and  one  which  a  man 
less  hardy  and  keen-witted  would  never  have  planned, 
and  certainly  could  not  have  succeeded  in  carrying 
out. 

Inkpaduta  and  his  men  evidently  gave  the  big  elk 
herd  a  long  chase,  without  any  notion  of  what  had 
happened  in  their  rear.  If  any  of  them  had  seen  Big 
Face  and  Boyer  near  the  dead  elk,  they  must  have 
thought  the  white  man  had  stopped  only  to  take 
aharge  of  his  game.  At  any  rate  they  did  not  overtake 
Jake,  who  pushed  rapidly  on  to  Lake  Shetek,  where  at 
a  settlement  he  was  safe  from  Indian  assault. 


INDIAN  TALES.  139 

-  Later,  he  joined  Williams  at  Fort  Dodge,  having 
passed  through  Inkpaduta's  country  in  the  night. 
After  that  he  trapped  west  of  the  Big  Sioux,  as  he 
considered  the  lake  region  "  unhealthy  "  for  him. 


HOW  HE  GOT  IT. 

"  Jorgensen,  can  you  bring  me  down,  on  your  next 
trip,  a  piece  of  pif) e-stone  big  enough  for  the  top  to  a 
center-table  % " 

This  request,  which  looks  and  sounds  plain  and 
innocent  enough,  was  addressed,  some  twenty  years 
ago,  by  a  St.  Louis  merchant  to  a  Danish  fur-buyer, 
with  whom  he  dealt,  buying  of  him,  every  few  months, 
a  boat  load  of  peltries,  brought  down  from  the  upper 
Missouri  country. 

The  Dane,  Odolph  Jorgensen,  a  short,  thick-set,  blue- 
eyed  fellow,  wearing  a  fierce,  stiff  mustache,  stood  in 
front  of  the  merchant's  counter,  stowing  in  his  wallet 
the  drafts  just  received  for  his  last  boat  load  of  furs. 

He  looked  up  at  the  questioner  with  a  shrewd 
twinkle  in  his  blue  eyes. 

"  Taas,  for  two  tousant  dollars,"  he  answered,  lacon- 
ically. 

The  merchant  stared. 

«  Why,  man,  it  aint  such  a  fearful  undertaking !"  he 
put  in,  with  a  good  deal  of  astonishment. 

"  Yaas,"  said  the  Dane;  "  it's  vort  that,  efry  saint." 

"  All  right!"  returned  the  merchant— he  was  wealthy. 
"I'll  give  you  two  thousand  dollars  for  a  piece  of  pipe- 
stone,  regular  in  shape,  three  feet  by  five,  and  two 
inches  thick  or  more." 

"  I  pring  ut  down  een  Nofaimber,"  answered  Jorgen- 
sen, and  that  ended  the  conversation. 

14Q 


INDIAN   TALES.  141 

Odolph  knew  that  he  would  risk  much,  his  life  even, 
in  executing  such  a  commission ;  but  he  had  grown 
hardy  in  five  years  of  fur-buying  in  the  Indian  country. 
Yet  if  he  could  have  known  all  the  danger  involved  in 
entering  upon  the  "  Neutral  Ground,  "  and  carrying  off 
a  block  of  the  sacred  pipe-stone,  he  probably  would  not 
have  taken  the  risk. 

As  it  was,  he  determined  to  go  about  it  at  once,  and 
in  the  only  way  he  approved  of  doing  business — an 
honorable  one.  He  had  no  right  to  take  even  a  pebble 
from  the  sacred  ground  of  the  Indians  without  their 
consent,  and  that  could  only  be  obtained  at  a  heavj^ 
cost,  and  at  no  small  danger  of  treachery. 

Nevertheless,  he  put  his  barge  in  tow  of  a  steamer, 
— he  shipped  his  peltries  down  in  a  flat-boat  on  his  own 
account, — and  with  his  assistant,  Hans  Obermann, 
boarded  his  boat  and  went  up  the  river  to  Yankton, 
his  headquarters;  and  from  there,  leaving  Hans  in 
charge  of  his  affairs,  he  took  a  horse  and  rode  straight 
for  Yankton  Agency,  some  sixty  miles  farther  up  the 
river. 

On  arriving,  he  went  to  the  tepee  of  a  Yanktonais 
chief,  whom  he  knew,  and  who  could  speak  English 
brokenly,  and,  after  much  preliminary  talk,  told  the 
Indian  what  he  wanted,  and  offered  the  chief  one  hun- 
dred dollars  to  go  with  him  to  the  pipe-stone  country 
and  help  him  get  a  block  of  stone. 

The  chief  listened  in  sullen  surprise  at  first, — they 
are  all  extremely  jealous  of  allowing  white  men  access 
to  the  pipe-stone  quarries,  even  as  visitors, — but  at 
length  the  promise  of  so  great  a  sum  of  money  began 
to  have  its  effect,  and  he  finally  agreed  that  if  "  Odolph  " 
—as  Jorgensen  was  known  to  him — would   give   him 


142  INDIAN  TALKS. 

one  hundred  dollars,  the  pony  he  had  ridden  up  there, 
two  new  blankets  and  five  pounds  of  tobacco,  and 
would  keep  the  matter  perfectly  secret,  he,  the  chief, 
would  go  and  help  him  get  the  pipe-stone. 

After  much  higgling,  Jorgensen  agreed,  and  the 
chief,  Niche  Kotonka  (Bad  Buffalo),  mounting  one  of 
his  ponies,  after  a  consultation  with  some  of  his  "  bucks, " 
set  out  with  the  Dane  on  the  return  trip  to  Yankton. 
From  this  point  Jorgensen,  accompanied  by  Obermann 
and  Bad  Buffalo,  who  joined  them  two  miles  out  on  his 
pony,  drove  north  in  his  wagon  to  the  Pipe-Stone 
Kegion.  They  reached  Pipe-Stone  Creek,  at  the  foot 
of  the  quarries,  one  beautiful  evening  just  before  sun- 
set. 

After  camping  and  eating  supper,  the  Indian 
mounted  his  pony,  and  told  Odolph  that  he  must  go  up 
the  stream  to  where  the  spirits  of  two  women  dwelt  in 
the  rocks,  and  "  make  medicine  "  to  them  before  they 
could  touch  the  stone.  He  cautioned  both  the  Danes 
not  to  lay  so  much  as  a  finger,  or  look  upon  a  piece  of 
it  until  he  had  returned. 

Jorgensen  knew  of  this  superstition,  and,  humoring 
the  Yankton's  caution,  he  and  Hans  lay  upon  the  grass 
and  smoked  their  pipes  until  Niche  Kotonka  came 
back.  It  was  then  dark,  and  all  three  rolled  their 
blankets  about  them  and  slept  till  morning. 

After  breakfast  the  next  morning  they  hitched  their, 
horses  to  the  wagon,  and  the  Yankton  led  the  way  to 
a  quarry  where  the  stone,  in  thin  strata,  cropped  out 
on  the  side  of  a  shallow  ravine. 

This  famous  pipe-stone  underlies  but  a  small  strip  of 
territory  along  the  creek  which  goes  by  this  name,  and 
is  found  cropping  out  in  numerous  small  ravines  and 


INDIAN  TALES.  143 

gullies;  and  in  these  places,  where  it  is  easiest  of  access, 
the  Indians  go  to  procure  it. 

As  they  only  get  small  pieces  for  pipes,  and  various 
little  ornaments  which  they  fashion  with  knives  and 
other  instruments,  and  polish  by  rubbing,  there  has,  of 
r  course,  been  no  very  great  diminution  of  quantity  at 
the  quarries.  It  is  now  well-known  that  this  peculiar 
soft  rock  is  susceptible  of  a  very  high  polish,  much 
more  mirror-like  and  beautiful  than  that  which  can  be 
put  upon  the  finest  of  dark  marbles. 

It  was  the  extreme  beauty  of  this  polish  upon  Indian 
ornaments,  and  the  knowledge  that,  owing  to  the  jeal- 
ous guardianship  of  the  Indians,  there  would  be  con- 
siderable difficulty  in  obtaining  so  large  a  piecfe  of  the 
rock,  that  had  induced  the  St.  Louis  merchant  to  offer 
Jorgensen  a  large  sum  for  a  block  of  table-top  size. 

But  thus  far  all  had  gone  famously  in  the  enterprise. 
The  stone  was  found  easy  of  access  at  the  quarry  to 
which  Bad  Buffalo  led  them.  And,  with  the  help  of  a 
sledge-hammer  and  crow-bar,Odolphand  Hans  soon  suc- 
ceeded in  breaking  into  proper  shape  and  dimensions  a 
fine  block  of  mottled  stone,  varying  in  color  from  light 
pink  to  the  deepest  ruby  red.  The  most  common  color 
is  a  dark  red,  or  nearly  ie  liver  color." 

The  Indian  then  demanded  and  received  the  one 
hundred  dollars,  which  Jorgensen  had  agreed  to  pay 
him  before  starting  upon  the  return.  The  other  prop- 
erty was  to  be  turned  over  at  Yankton.  After  this 
had  been  done,  they  set  out  upon  their  way  back. 
The  chief,  by  agreement,  was  to  accompany  them  all 
the  way,  as  a  safeguard,  should  any  party  of  Sioux 
accidentally  discover  their  trail  and  the  object  of  their 
trip,  or  come  upon  them  with  any  hostile  intent — 


144  INDIAN   TALES. 

something  which  any  white  traveler  might  expect  in 
those  regions  at  that  time. 

That  night  they  camped  on  the  east  bank  of  the 
Big  Sioux,  at  the  crossing,  or  ford,  of  an  old  military 
trail,  one  they  had  followed  for  some  distance  in 
coming  out  of  Yankton.  The  next  morning,  when 
Odolph  and  Hans  awoke,  the  chief  was  gone.  Odolph 
had  left  him  on  guard  at  two  o'clock — they  had  kept 
guard  by  relief — and  the  rascal  had  stolen  out  to  his 
pony,  mounted  and  ridden  away.  He  had  taken 
nothing,  however,  not  belonging  to  him,  having 
refrained,  probably,  with  the  hope  of  leaving  behind 
an  impression  of  honesty  and  fair  dealing. 

Jorgensen  suspected  treachery  immediately.  He 
remembered  with  alarm  the  consultation  with  the 
braves  at  the  Agency,  of  which  he — and  the  chief 
knew  it — understood  not  a  word;  also  the  strict 
injunction  of  secrecy  which  Bad  Buffalo  had  laid  upon 
him,  and  the  now  doubly  alarming  and  significant  fact 
that  the  chief  had  not  entered  the  town  of  Yankton 
at  all,  but  had  stopped  all  night  with  a  half-breed 
some  miles  above,  and  had  contrived  to  join  Hans  and 
himself  the  next  morning  upon  the  prairie  where  there 
would  be  no  witnesses. 

All  that  had  seemed  natural  enough  at  the  time, 
knowing,  as  the  fur-trader  did,  the  peculiar  character- 
istics of  the  Indian. 

Now,  however,  the  thought  came  to  him  with  start- 
ling significance  that  no  white  man  had  seen  the  Indian 
in  their  company  at  all. 

Odolph  felt  sorely  chagrined  at  his  short-sighted 
confidence,  and  told  his  fears  briefly  to  Hans. 

"  We  must  put  that  stone  in  the  river,"  said  he, "  and 


INDIAN  TALES.  145 

get  out  of  this  country  by  some  other  way  than  we 
came,  and  we  must  do  it  soon. " 

Hans  was  badly  frightened,  but  he  obeyed  commands 
with  his  usual  sturdy  faithfulness,  and  in  a  short  time 
the  two  had  crossed  the  river  in  their  wagon,  having 
dumped  out  the  precious  stone  into  four  feet  of  water, 
and  were  driving  hurriedly  down  the  valley  on  the 
west  side.  They  pushed  on  this  way  for  several  hours 
along  the  valley  and  across  the  _  points  of  numerous 
bluffs  that  pushed  out  into  it,  and  then  halted  in  the 
mouth  of  a  deep  ravine,  where  they  determined  to 
lie  in  wait  until  dark,  and  then  drive  straight— or  as 
straight  as  possible — across  the  prairie  for  Yankton. 

Odolph  reasoned  that  if  they  could  reach  that  point 
without  being  seen  by  Indians — for  he  firmly  believed 
that  a  party  of  Bad  Buffalo's  bucks  were  lying  in  wait 
for  them  along  the  military  road — the  chief  would  con- 
clude that  he  had  dodged  them  and  got  safe  through 
with  the  pipe-stone,  and  they  could  very  safely  go  back 
in  time  and  get  it.  On  the  other  hand,  if,  as  was  more 
than  likely,  they  were  caught,  the  rascals  could  have  no 
cause  for  picking  a  quarrel. 

The  sequel  proved  his  surmises  correct,  but,  as  will 
be  seen,  his  tactics  availed  him  little  as  a  means  of 
preventing  trouble. 

After  halting  in  the  ravme,  the  Danes  picketed 
their  horses  upon  the  side-hill,  ate  a  cold  lunch  of  raw 
bacon  and  crackers,  and  then  threw  themselves  upon 
the  grass,  with  their  carbines  beside  them,  to  wait  the 
coming  of  night  or  whatever  of  adventure  the  after- 
noon might  bring  them. 

They  had  not  a  great  while  to  wait  for  an  adventure 
most  unwelcome  in  its  nature. 


146  INDIAN  TALES. 

They  had  lain  an  hour  or  two,  and  Odolph  was 
stretched  upon  his  back  with  half-closed  eyes,  when 
Hans  suddenly  sprang  up  and  exclaimed  in  frightened 
tones :  "  Min  Gud,  Odolph !  De  komme  at  drcehe  os!  " 
(They  are  coming  to  kill  us.) 

Odolph  sprang  to  his  feet  in  time  to  see  appear  upon 
the  ridge  the  last  one  of  a  squad  of  Indian  horsemen 
who  had  come  over  the  northern  bluff  and  were 
ambling  down  toward  them. 

There  were  eighteen  or  twenty  of  them,  all  bucks, 
and  armed  to  a  man  with  carbine  and  musket. 

"  Those  fellows  mean  mischief,  Hans,  sure  enough," 
said  Jorgensen,  speaking  in  their  native  tongue.  "  Stand 
back  here  away  from  the  wagon,  a  little  behind  me, 
and  do  as  you  see  me  do,"  and  throwing  his  carbine 
carelessly  across  his  left  arm,  the  fur-buyer  awaited  the 
Indians'  approach  with  ail  the  careless  assurance  he 
could  assume. 

As  the  squad  drew  near,  Odolph  and  his  frightened 
companion  saw  that  the  faces  of  all  of  them  were 
hideously  bedaubed  with  glaring  paints,  green,  black, 
yellow  and  vermilion. 

They  were  scattered  out  in  single  file  before  reaching 
the  bottom  of  the  ravine,  and  the  leader — a  chief  if 
Odolph  could  judge  from  his  toggery— rode  directly  to 
the  wagon,  without  so  much  as  deigning  to  notice  the 
white  men,  leaned  forward  upon  his  pony's  neck,  and 
peered  scowlingly  into  the  box. 

He  looked  earnestly  for  a  moment,  and  then,  uttering 
an  angry  grunt,  glowered  savagely  at  Odolph,  who 
looked  him  shrewdly  and  keenly  in  the  eyes  and  said 
"  How  !  "  as  pleasantly  as  he  could. 

But  the  Indian  was  in  a  bad  humor,  and  without 


INDIJtit  TALES.  147 

replying  to  this  civil  salute,  he  turned  to  several  of  his 
repulsive-looking  bucks  who  had  now  ridden  up  and 
gave  a  few  guttural  words  of  command. 

A  half-dozen  or  more  of  them  instantly  sprang  from 
their  ponies  and  giving  the  lariats  in  charge  of  others, 
speedily  pulled  the  blankets,  "grub-box"  and  other 
Contents  out  of  the  wagon,  gave  the  blankets  to  the 
chief — there  were  only  two  rolled  together  in  a  bundle 
— then,  with  their  hatchets,  they  fell  upon  the  wagon- 
box  and  began  hacking  it  in  pieces.  While  they  were 
doing  this  two  of  the  mounted  Indians  rode  out,  pulled 
the  picket-pins  and  led  Odolph's  horses  away  up  the 
ravine. 

Jorgensen  and  his  man  stood  looking  helplessly  on, 
well-knowing,  in  fact,  that  they  must  do  nothing  else 
if  they  would  save  their  lives. 

The  angry  Indians  soon  demolished  the  wagon, 
chopping  the  "reach"  in  the  centre  and  piling  the 
wheels  and  fragments  of  the  box  in  a  heap  together. 
They  then  scratched  matches  —  of  which  they  seemed 
to  have  a  good  supply  —  and  lighted  splinters  in  sev- 
eral places  at  the  bottom,  and  in  a  few  moments  the 
whole  heap  was  enveloped  in  flames.  They  stood  back 
and  laughed  as  the  blaze  crackled  about  the  wreck,  and 
maliciously  eyed  the  two  Danes  as  though  they  wished 
they  might  dare  to  fling  them  also  into  the  burning 
mass. 

However,  they  made  no  hostile  demonstration  then 
— owing,  no  doubt,  to  the  fact  that  the  two  white  men 
stood  with  the  muzzles  of  their  carbines  pointed  toward 
them — but  after  making  sure  the  fire  had  made  too 
great  headway  to  be  put  out,  the  dismounted  ones  got 


148  INDIAN  TALES. 

on  their  ponies  and  the  whole  party  rode  off  up  the 
ravine. 

"  Now,"  said  Odolph,  as  the  last  Sioux  disappeared 
over  the  summit,  "  we  must  run  for  it,  Hans.  We 
must  make  the  river  and  get  across  at  once,  or  we'll 
never  get  out  of  this  hollow  alive." 

They  did  run  as  swiftly  as  their  short  Danish  legs 
would  carry  them. 

The  river  was  not  more  than  two  hundred  yards  dis- 
tant, but  even  as  they  reached  the  bank  they  heard  the 
clatter  of  horse-hoofs  upon  the  bluff  above.  Looking 
back,  Odolph  saw  that  the  whole  troop  were  riding 
along  the  ridge  at  a  headlong  gallop  and  evidently 
making  ready  to  fire  upon  them. 

u  Into  the  river,  Hans  !"he  sh6uted,  and  they  plunged 
in.  The  bank  was  sloping  and  there  was  no  shelter 
unless  they  could  reach  the  timber  which  grew  upon 
the  other  side. 

The  water  came  up  to  their  armpits,  and,  holding 
their  carbines  above  their  heads,  they  pushed  through 
the  current  at  a  rate  that  made  it  boil  behind  them. 

They  had  not  more  than  reached  the  middle  when 
the  Indians  drew  up  on  the  crest  of  the  bluff  above  and 
began  firing  down  upon  them.  The  bullets  pattered 
"chook !  chook! "  close  about  their  shoulders. 

"Down,  Hans!  down  to  your  nose!"  shouted  the 
ready-witted  fur-buyer,  and  sinking  down  until  only 
the  tops  of  their  heads  and  the  muzzles  of  their  carbines 
protruded  above  the  surface,  the  imperiled  Danes 
scooted  through  the  water  like  hunted  deer. 

The  moving  heads  presented  small  marks  at  that 
distance,  and  some  of  the  Indians  dismounted  and 
came  bounding  down  the  steep  side  of  the  bluff  to  get 


INDIAN  TALES.  149 

a  close  shot  as  the  white  men  came  up  on  the  opposite 
hank. 

But  Odolph  understood  this  game  also,  and  heading 
down  stream — he  was  in  the  lead,  for  Hans  faithfully 
followed  in  every  move — he  made  for  a  big  fallen  tree 
that  leaned  out  from  the  bank  and  had  formed  a  sort 
of  boom  for  the  lodgment  of  a  mass  of  drift-stuff. 
Behind  that  they  would  be' safe. 

The  Indians  saw  this  move  and  with  yells  of  disap- 
pointment halted,  fired  a  few  ineffective  shots  and 
then  hustled  back  to  get  out  of  range  of  the  carbines 
which  they  well  knew  were  loaded  with  waterproof 
cartridges  and  would  be  turned  upon  them  in  a  moment 
from  behind  the  drift.  The  whole  party  then  hur- 
riedly withdrew  out  of  sight. 

Odolph  and  Hans,  who  had  both  reached  the  shelter 
of  the  drift,  now  crawled  up  the  bank  and  walked  out 
among  the  trees  to  where  they  could  safely  pull  off 
their  dripping  clothes  and  wring  the  water  from  them. 
Here  they  stayed,  on  the  watch,  until  dark,  when, 
having  seen  no  signs  of  the  Indians  prowling  about, 
they  set  out  in  the  direction  of  a  Norse  settlement, 
which  they  knew  to  have  been  made  some  twenty-four 
miles  to  the  southeast,  near  the  head  of  the  Floyd 
river. 

They  reached  the  sod  shanty  of  a  Norwegian  just 
after  daylight  the  next  morning,  and  were  hospitably 
received.  They  related  their  adventure,  and  a  few 
days  afterward,  securing  the  services  of  an  ox-team 
and  two  of  the  settlers  to  go  with  them,  they  made  a 
second  and  successful  journey  after  the  pipe-stone. 

It  was  brought  back  to  the  settlement  and  subse- 


180  INDIAN   TALES. 

quently  taken  to  Sioux  City  and  shipped  to  St.  Louis 
on  the  first  downward-bound  steamer. 

It  is  needless  to  say  that  JViche  Kotonlca  never  put 
in  an  appearance  at  Yankton,  and  in  fact,  though 
Odolph  had  occasion  several  times  afterward  to  pass 
through  the  "  Agency,"  he  never  could  succeed  in 
getting  a  sight  of  the  treacherous  chief. 

The  pipe-stone  was  received  by  the  St.  Louis  mer- 
chant and  paid  for.  It  made  a  beautiful  table-top, 
and  yet  remains  in  possession  of  the  family.  It  is 
greatly  admired  by  guests,  not  only  for  the  exquisite 
polish  of  its  mottled  surface,  but  also  as  a  witness  of 
the  Danish  fur-buyer's  determined  fulfillment  of  a 
perilous  contract. 


^| 


Frontier  Sketches 


BY 


FRANK  W,  CALKINS 


CONTENTS, 


PAGE. 

I    A  Piece  of  Frontier  Strategy 5 

II.    The  Mystery  of  the  TN Brand 18 

III.  Corson's  Wife 38 

IV.  The  "  Moaning  Rock  "  at  Bogey's  Bend ;.......    40 

V.    Mortimer  Halleck's  Adventure 64 

VI.    The  Mystery  of  the  Valley s. ..i.....      64 

VII.    Followed 72 

VIII.    Olaf  Helgerson's  Pay 83 

IX.    A  Wild  Night-Ride. ...    m 

X.    Carlen  and  his  Comet .... 105 

XI.    Caught  in  a  Blizzard 115 

XII.    A  Fortunate  Cyclone 125 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 
i. 

A  PIECE  OP  FRONTIER  STRATEGY. 

In  the  early  days  of  the  settlement  of  "Wisconsin 
there  were  neither  land  surveys  nor  government  laws 
by  which  lands  could  be  held  with  perfect  security  by 
the  settlers.  There  was,  however,  in  most  counties  an 
unwritten  law,  much  like  that  which  governs  claim- 
taking"  in  mining  districts,  and  which  generally  pro- 
tected the  claimant  who  complied  with  its  requirements. 
These  requirements  which  were  adopted  in  nearly  all 
the  new  communities  as  "  neighborhood  by-laws,"  and 
in  most  of  them  strictly  enforced  against  all  persons 
who  tried  to  violate  them,  were  usually  something  like 
the  following : 

The  claimant,  if  he  were  of  age  or  the  head  of  a 
family,  was  entitled  to  one  hundred  and  sixty  acres  of 
timber  land  and  the  same  amount  of  prairie  land,  which 
he  must  first  locate,  and  then  proceed  to  measure  by 
"  stepping  it  off." 

There  was  usually  some  one  in  every  organized  town- 
ship who  was  regarded  as  an  expert  in  measuring  land. 
Eight  hundred  and  eighty  steps  of  three  feet  each 
along  the  four  sides  of  a  square,  beginning  at  a  given 
landmark  and  returning  to  it,  were  allowed  as  a  quarter- 
section. 

The  corners  were  established  on  the  prairie  by  marked 

6 


8  FRONTIER  SKETCHES* 

stakes,  and  in  timber  by  blazing  trees  and  carving  the 
taker's  name  or  initials  upon  them.  Then  within  a 
reasonable  time,  say  three  months — the  time  was  not 
definitely  fixed — the  squatter  must  build  a  cabin  and 
move  his  family,  if  he  had  one,  his  effects  if  he  had  not, 
into  it,  and  there  make  his  home  until  the  land  should 
be  surveyed  and  "  come  into  market,"  when,  by  appear- 
ing either  himself  or  in  the  person  of  the  "  township 
bidder,"  at  the  regular  "land  sale"  for  his  district, 
bidding  the  minimum  price,  one  dollar  and  a  quarter  an 
acre,  and  paying  the  money  to  the  registrar  of  the  land- 
office,  he  received  a  government  patent  which  made  his 
claim  valid  and  final. 

It  was  not  well  for  an  interloper  to  attempt  to  jump 
one, of  these  claims,  or  to  bid  more  than  the  minimum 
price  above  a  claimant  who  had  complied  with  the  by- 
laws of  his  district. 

Generally,  as  I  have  said,  the  squatter,  who  com- 
plied with  these  "  right  of  discovery  "  land  laws,  was 
safe  enough  to  hold  his  claim,  and  if  he  had  not  the 
ready  money  saved  to  pay  for  it  at  the  land  sale,  he 
could  easily  borrow  it  of  money-lenders  in  his  district. 
But  sometimes  there  were  disputes,  in  which  whole 
neighborhoods  took  sides,  and  occasionally  a  squatter's 
claim  was  the  scene  of  an  affray  in  which  blood  was  shed. 

Two  young  men,  Jacob  and  Jared  Stebbins,  who 
lived  in  the  region  between  Blue  Mounds  and  the 
Wisconsin,  very  early  in  the  history  of  that  country, 
belonged  to  the  pioneer  class  above  mentioned.  Their 
father  had  moved  up  there  from  Galena  some  time 
before  the  Black  Hawk  troubles,  and,  though  they  were 
but  lads  of  sixteen  and  seventeen,  they  had  taken  part 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  7 

in  the  defense  of  Mound  Fort,  and  in  the  battle  of 
Wisconsin  Heights. 

As  they  grew  up  and  Jake  came  of  age,  they  became 
ambitious  to  have  land  of  their  own.  They  had  helped 
clear  grub,  break  up,  fence  and  cultivate  one  hundred 
acres  of  land  on  their  father's  "patent"  in  Mound 
Creek  Valley,  and  now  it  was  high  time  to  begin  for 
themselves. 

Up  to  this  period  the  broad  "Wisconsin,  unfordable 
except  in  the  driest  seasons,  had  acted  as  a  check  to 
the  tide  of  Northern  and  Western  settlement  in  their 
district.  There  was  much  choice  land  upon  the  other 
side,  and  some  two  years  before  Jake  was  twenty-one 
the  boys  had  been  across  the  river  hunting,  and  had 
staked  and  blazed  claims  for  themselves — two  "  quart- 
ers"— upon  one  of  which  they  had  subsequently 
erected  a  snug  log  cabin,  which  they  had  covered  with 
boards  of  their  own  make. 

They  spent  the  greater  part  of  two  winters  in  this 
cabin,  hunting  and  splitting  rails  during  the  short 
days,  and  during  the  spring,  summer  and  autumn 
while  working  on  their  father's  place,  they  watched 
jealously  for  any  movement  toward  a  settlement  on 
the  "  other  side. " 

The  winter  before  Jake  came  of  age  several  other 
claims  were  taken,  above  their  own,  on  the  west  side 
of  the  river,  on  Sac  Prairie,  one  of  the  most  fertile 
prairies  of  the  state.  The  boys  now  determined  to 
move  over  finally  so  soon  as  they  should  gather  the 
spring  crops  upon  their  father's  place. 

In  March,  upon  going  home  from  their  claim,  they 
left  their  cooking  utensils  and  other  belongings  inside 
the  cabin,  and  closed  the  door  and  window  by  nailing 


8.  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

some  heavy  strips  across  them.  It  was  not  until  May, 
after  corn  planting,  that  they  moved  across  the  river. 
They  swam  over  two  yoke  of  steers,  their  breaking 
team,  and  rafted  across  their  wagon,  ploughs  and  some 
other  effects.  It  took  them  nearly  all  day  to  cross, 
and  it  was  late  in  the  evening  when  they  reached  their 
cabin. 

The  cabin  had  been  built  in  the  edge  of  the  valley 
timber,  and  they  had  cleared  a  space  around  it.  As 
they  drove  out  into  this  open  space,  they  were  sur- 
prised by  the  yelping  of  a  dog,  which  came  rushing 
toward  them,  and  flew  at  the  faces  of  the  steers,  so 
that  they  halted  and  lowered  their  horns  to  fight  off 
the  brute.  Jared  ran  forward  and  drove  the  animal 
away  with  his  whip,  giving  it  a  cut  which  sent  it  back 
to  the  cabin. 

"  Somebody's  here  ? "  said  he. 

Jared  went  forward.  The  dog  snarled  at  him  from 
under  the  covered  wagon  as  he  approached.  As  he 
came  up  to  the  cabin,  he  saw  that  the  boards  had  been 
ripped  from  the  door3  and  that  a  light  was  shining 
through  a  crack. 

"  Hallo,  thar ! "  he  called,  standing  close  to  the  door. 

There  was  a  moment  of  waiting,  a  murmur  of  voices 
inside ;  then  the  door  swung  inward,  and  the  tall,  gaunt 
figure  of  a  middle-aged  woman  stood  in  the  open  space. 

"  "Who  be  ye  ? "  she  inquired,  gruffly. 

"  I'm  one  of  the  owners  of  this  claim,"  said  Jared, 
"  an'  wo'd  like  ter  shar'  the  cabin  with  ye  till  we  c'n 
get  some  supper." 

"  Wal'  ye  can't  come  in  hyer!"  said  the  woman; 
coolly.     "This  hyer  claim  an'  this  hyer  cabin  b'longs 


PKONTIBE   SKETCHES. 


"  Who  be  ye  ?  "  she  inquired,  gruffly.— Page  8. 


10  FRONTIER    SKETCHES. 

ter  us  ? "  and  she  stepped  back  to  shut  the  door  in  his 
face. 

Jared  was  hot-blooded  and  was  naturally  angry  at 
this  turn  of  events.  He  sprang  towards  the  closing 
door,  and  threw  all  his  weight  against  it.  The  woman 
was  large  and  strong  enough  to  have  offered  stout 
resistance,  but  she  was  taken  by  surprise ;  the  door 
flew  out  of  her  grasp,  back  upon  its  hinges,  and  Jared 
was  propelled  against  her  with  a  force  that  made  her 
stagger  half-way  across  the  room. 

Jared  had  gained  admission,  but  found  himself 
facing  two  big,  bony  men,  who  had  arisen  from  their 
stools  before  the  fire-place  as  he  burst  the  door  in. 

They  sprang  at  him,  knocked  him  over,  sat  on  him — 
one  on  his  shoulders  and  the  other  on  his  legs — and 
then,  with  buckskin  straps,  proceeded  to  bind  him 
hand  and  foot. 

Jared  struggled  for  a  moment,  and  then,  finding  it 
useless,  gave  it  up.  He  was  soon  relieved  of  the  weight 
of  his  captors,  but  lay  helplessly  bound  upon  the  floor. 

All  this  had  happened  so  quickly  that  when  Jake, 
who  had  heard  the  scuffle,  had  tied  the  steers  ami  come 
cautiously  up  to  the  door,  gun  in  hand,  he  found  him- 
self confronted  by  the  muzzles  of  two  rifles,  which 
protruded  through  a  crack  which  had  been  made  by 
removing  a  board  from  the  nearest  window. 

'-'Drop  that  gun! "  came  from  within  the  cabin. 

But  instead  of  dropping  his  weapon,  the  quick-witted 
young  settler  sprang  to  one  side,  and  ran  behind  the 
wagon,  under  which  the  belligerent  dog  was  still  bark- 
ing.    Then  he  called  to  his  brother : 

"  Say,  Jerd,  have  they  hurt  ye  ? " 


fBONTIBB  SKETCHES.  4.1 

Jared  shouted  back  that  they  hadn't,  but  that  twc 
men  had  tied  him  hand  and  foot. 

Jake  picked  up  a  club  and  threw  it  at  the  dog  to  drive 
it  away ;  then  he  called  to  the  men  to  know  what  they 
meant  by  such  outrageous  acts.  One  of  them — the  old 
man — answered  back  that  they  had  taken  up  a  man  for 
assault  and  battery,  and  meant  only  to  protect  them- 
selves and  their  rights. 

Jake  told  them  they  had  no  business  inside  the  cabin, 
which  belonged  to  himself  and  his  brother ;  that  this 
claim  had  been  made  and  held  for  two  years,  and 
that  they  were  liable  to  prosecution  for  assault  on  his 
brother. 

The  elder  man  answered  back  that  he  and  his  son 
had  found  an  old  trapper  living  in  the^cabin ;  that  they 
had  bought  his  right  to  it,  and  laid  claim  to  the  land, 
and,  what  was  more,  they  should  hold  it  against  all 
comers.  It  was  also  stated  that  a  colony  of  settlers 
from  Illinois  had  come  in  some  three  weeks  before,  hav- 
ing crossed  the  river  at  "  The  Portage,"  and  squatted 
along  on  that  side ;  that  a  general  meeting  had  already 
been  held,  and  the  usual  regulations  adopted,  and  that 
the  speaker  inside  the  cabin  had  been  chosen  constable 
until  a  regular  election  was  held. 

The  young  fellow  was  astounded  and  chagrined  at  this 
intelligence.  The  situation  was  puzzling  enough,  for 
he  saw  that  these  claim-jumpers  had  greatly  the  advan- 
tage over  him.  He  and  Jared  could  really  prove  nothing ; 
not  a  settler  on  the  other  side  whom  they  knew  had 
ever  visited  them  here  or  knew  of  the  location  of  their 
claim  except  by  heresay.  Their  only  callers  had  been 
two  or  three  stray  trappers- and  an  occasional  Winne- 


12  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

bago  Indian  who  had  at  various  times  spent  a  night 

with  them. 

It  was  one  of  those  trappers,  a  rascally-looking  fel- 
low whom  he  remembered  he  had  disliked,  who  had 
pretended  to  sell  this  claim  to  the  present  occupants — 
and  there  was  a  whole  neighborhood  to  stand  by  them 
in  possession. 

The  situation  was  discouraging  even  if  Jared  had 
not — according  to  the  code  of  the  region — been  lawfully 
arrested  for  an  assault.  Jake  went  out  near  his  own 
wagon  and  sat  down  on  a  stump  to  think. 

The  night  was  not  dark;  the  moon  was  shining 
faintly  and  a  light  wind  was  moving  the  tree  tops,  and 
as  Jake  sat  with  his  face  between  his  hands  in  a  brown 
study,  the  figure  of  a  person  came  across  his  range  of 
vision.  A  boy  emerged-f  rom  the  woods  a  short  distance 
west  qf  the  cabin  and  came  toward  him.  As  he 
approached  the  dog  ran  out  and  began  leaping  upon 
him. 

"Hullo,  mister!  w'at  ye  doin'  out  hyer?"  The 
voice  was  that  of  a  lad  of  fourteen  or  fifteen. 

Jake  answered,  warily,  that  "  he'd  jes'  druv  up  a  bit 
ago,  an'  was  wonderin'  where  thar  might  be  some 
water  fer  the  oxen. "  He  added  that  he  thought  it 
rather  late  to  wake  people  up  to  find  out — there  was 
no  light  that  could  be  seen  from  the  cabin. 

"  Oh,  I'll  show  ye, "  said  the  boy.  A  It's  'bout  forty 
rod,  though,  the  way  ye'll  hev  ter  drive  t'  git  down  ter 
the  crick." 

"That  don't  make  any  differ'nce — the  distance," 
said  Jake.  "  I  want  to  camp  by  water, " — which  was 
true  enough,  as  matters  had  turned  out. 

Thereupon  he  untied  his  oxen,  turned  his  wagon 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  13 

about  ana  drove  after  the  boy,  who  led  him  back  very 
nearly  over  the  way  he  had  come.  Jake,  looking  back 
as  they  entered  the  timber-line,  saw  the  cabin  door 
swing  open,  and  some  one  come  out  and  look  after 
them.  Bat  fortunately  the  boy  was  straight  ahead 
and  could  not  be  seen,  and  the  man,  who  had  probably 
come  out  to  see  what  was  going  on  upon  hearing  the 
wagon  rattle,  turned  again  and  entered  the  cabin. 

It  was  fifteen  minutes'  drive  down  to  the  creek,  by 
the  nearest  approach  for  a  wagon,  but,  as  Jake  well 
knew,  the  stream  could  be  approached  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  cabin,  which  was  situated  in  a  bend  of  it, 
by  a  very  short  cut  through  thick,  brush.  It  was  from 
that  quarter,  in  fact,  that  he  and  Jared  had  brought 
their  water  for  cooking  purposes. 

However,  it  just  suited  a  plan  which  had  flashed 
upon  him  that  the  boy  should  be  at  the  pains  of  select- 
ing for  him  the  best  camping-place — it  got  them  out 
of  sight  and  hearing  of  the  cabin. 

Jake  walked  well  up  by  the  steers  and  talked  to  the 
boy  as  they  went  forward  and  learned,  as  he  had 
^expected,  that  the  lad  was  the  son  of  the  man  who  had. 
jumped  his  claim.  The  boy  said  he  had  gone  over  to 
a  neighbor's  who  had  just  moved  into  a  new  log-house 
one  mile  west  and  was  to  have  stayed  all  night,  but 
finding  that  a  number  of  land-seekers  had  claimed  the 
neighbor's  hospitality,  he  had  spent  the  evening  at 
play  with  their  boys  and  returned.  He  said  his 
father's  name  was  Burrel. 

They  reached  the  creek,  and  Jake,  having  quickly 
matured  a  plan  of  action,  stopped  his  oxen  and  while 
untying  a  long,  slender  lead-rope  from  the  horns  of 


ift  rseoirnEF  sketgbz&, 

the  "near*5  steer  at  the  head  of  the  team,  kept  the  boy 
near  his  side  by  talking  to  him. 

When  he  had  secured  the  rope,  however,  he  turned, 
flung  an  arm  around  his  listener,  and  with  a  quick  trip 
threw  him  to  the  ground.  The  boy  struggled  and 
screamed  with  fear  and  anger,  but  Jake  quieted  him 
with  a  stern  command  and  then,  holding  him  fast, 
told  him  just  what  had  happened  at  the  cabin, 
and  also  gave  him  a  truthful  account  of  his  own  and 
his  brother's  labor  in  making  the  claim,  which  had  been 
jumped  regardless  of  their  rights. 

"  An'  now,  youngster,  I'm  goin'  ter  tie  ye  up,  an' 
bring  yer  ole  dad  ter  terms,  an'  the  more  ye  cut  up  the 
wuss  it'll  be  for  ye." 

The  boy  evidently  believed  his  story  and  saw  both 
the  point  and  the  justice  of  the  case,  for  he  sullenly 
submitted,  gritting  out  between  his  teeth  that "  Dad 
'n'  Bob  '11  get  ev'n  with  ye  fur  this." 

Jake  tied  his  prisoner  securely,  unhitched  his  oxen  and 
turned  them  loose,  with  the  yokes  on,  to  graze,  and 
then,  getting  some  quilts  out  of  the  wagon,  made  a  bed 
under  it,  picked  up  the  captive  and  laid  him  upon  it. 
He  then  ate  a  cold  bite  of  bread  and  meat,  and  taking 
his  rifle  went  slowly  back  to  the  cabin. 

When  he  arrived  there  he  again  seated  himself  upon 
a  stump  and  gave  his  mind  to  thought.  He  had  gained 
one  advantage,  at  least,  he  could  exchange  prisoners 
and  get  his  brother  free,  which  had  been  his  object  in 
so  roughly  treating  the  boy,  but  could  he  do  anything 
more  % 

letermined  to  try.    Accordingly  he  got  up  and 

tly  behind  the  covered   wagon  where  he.  had 

•ore — the  dog  seemed  to  have  exhausted  its 


animosity  or  else  it  had  followed  the  wagon  and  gone 

rabbit-hunting. 

Jake  now  shouted  loudly  at  the  cabin 

"  Ho,  Burrel !    Barrel,  I  say ! " 

There  was  a  movement  inside,  a  light  shone  through 
a  craclr  and  an  angry  voice— the  old  man's  again 
—replied :    "  Wall,  what  ye  yawpin'  'bout  now  ? " 

Jake  briefly  related  the  story  of  the  boy's  capture, 
only  being  interrupted  every  few  seconds  by  ejacula- 
tions of  wrath  and  chagrin' from  his  auditors,  or  at 
least  from  two  of  them.  Jared  was  listening  also,  and 
Jake  heard  him  give  a  shout  and  a  hearty  laugh  of 
triumph  at  the  conclusion. 

For  a  moment  there  was  confusion  inside  the  cabin, 
and  a  gabble  of  excited  discussion,  then  the  door 
opened  cautiously,  and  Jake  heard  somebody— evi- 
dently a  woman— crying  piteously. 

"Oh,  they'll  kill'im!  they'll  kill  my  babby!"  she 
moaned. 

"  Shet  up ! "  said  one  of  the  men,  roughly. 

"  Say,  mister ! "  he  called,  poking  his  head  out  of  a 
crack  in  the  doorway. 

"Now,  look  hyer!"  called  Jake,  sharply,  "none  o' 
that !    Keep  inside  ef  ye  want  to  keep  a  whole  skin." 

The  head  was  hastily  withdrawn. 

"  Now,  lookee  hyer  1 "  repeated  Jake,  "  I'm  a-goin5 
ter  hold  this  hyer  cabin  in  a  state  ©'  seige  till  ye  come 
ter  my  terms.    My  terms  is  theses 

"  Yer  turn  my  brother  loose ;  give  'im  ev'ry  gun 
ye've  got  an'  let  'im  bring  'em  out  hyer  to  me.  Then 
yer  pick  up  yer  duds,  V  bring  'em  out  'n'  pack 
'em  in  this  wagon  'n'  take  yerselves  off  'n  this 
claim*  n?  when  ye've  done  that  I'll  turn  yer  boy  loose* 


16  FRONTIER    SKETCHES. 

'n'  when  ye've  gone  V  took  a  claim  't  ye've  got  a 
right  ter  squat  on,  V  git  settled  onto  it,  yer  c'n  send 
one  o'  yer  neighbors  after  them  guns.  Now  yer  c'n 
jes'  do  that  er  I'll  hoi' ye  in  thar  till  the  crack' o' doom, 
V  yer  boy  't's  tied  up  out  thar  in  the  woods  c'n  stay 
thar  till  the  b'ars  eat  'im  up,  er  the  wolves,  'n'  they's 
plenty  o'  both  round  hyer.  I've  got  plenty  ter  eat  in 
my  pockets  'n'  good  shelter  commandin'  the  winders 
'n'  door." 

At  the  close  of  this  speech  there  was  another  wail 
inside  the  cabin.  The  woman,  rough  as  she  was,  loved 
her  hoy  and  was  terribly  frightened,  and  the  men 
seemed  subdued  and  impressed  with  the  gravity  of  the 
situation.  After  a  long  parley  the  men,  moved  by  the 
entreaties  of  the  woman  and  greatly  to  Jake's  surprise, 
did  accept  them  and  sent  Jared  out  with  the  guns. 

They  brought  out  their  household  goods  and  the  men 
sullenly  packed  them  in  the  wagon  while  Jake  and 
Jared  with  the  guns  stood  guard  at  a  safe  distance. 
They  got  up  their  oxen  and  hitched  them  to  the  wagon, 
and  then  the  woman,  who  had  silently  helped  bring  out 
their  bedding,  clothing  and  cooking  utensils,  broke  down 
again,  and  begged  that  the  boy  might  be  "turned 
loose  'n'  fetched." 

This  was  more  than  Jake  could  stand,  and  though  he 
knew  the  lad  was  safe  and  fairly  comfortable,  he  had 
tied  him  so  that  he  felt  certain  he  could  not  get  loose. 
He,  therefore,  left  Jared  with  two  guns  to  guard  the 
claim-jumpers  and  went  and  got  the  boy.  The  whole 
party  then  drove  off  without  a  word. 

It  was  nearly  two  weeks  before  a  neighbor  with 
whom  they  had  become  acquainted,  and  who  sided  with 
them  upon  learning  all  the  facts  in  the  case,  came  ovr 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES  i? 

ind  got  the  guns,  and  brought  the  information  that  the 
Surrels  had  settled  about  twelve  miles  down  the  river. 
He  had  previously  told  them  that  he  and  some  other 
leighbors,  who  had  elected  the  elder  Burrel  a  constable, 
liad  not  been  acquainted  with  the  family  long,  having 
i>nly_ fallen  in  with  them  while  "moving." 

After  getting  acquainted  with  all  the  new-comers  of 
fcheir  neighborhood  the  two  boys  found  good  friends 
and  good  neighbors  among  them. 


THE  MYSTERY  OP  THE  TN BRAND. 

Six  4  eight  years  ago  horse  and  cattle  thieves  were 
exceeta.-agly  troublesome  to  the  stockmen  of  Montana 
and  northern  Wyoming.  During  a  year's  stay  in 
those  regions  I  heard  many  accounts  of  daring  and 
successful  robberies,  of  narrow  escapes  on  the  part  of 
these  raiders,  and  of  various  curious  expedients 
employed  by  them  to  accomplish  their  object,  which 
was,  of  course,  to  drive  off  stock  which  did  not  belong 
to  them. 

One  of  the  most  bold  and  yet  cunning  attempts  at 
cattle-stealing,  perhaps,  ever  made,  occurred  about  that 
time  on  the  South  Cheyenne  range  near  the  Wyoming 
and  Dakota  lines.  I  do  not  know  that  the  frtory  was 
ever  told  outside  the  region  in  which  it  happened :  but, 
whether  or  no,  it  seems  worth  telling  now. 

It  was  just  at  the  close  of  the  Indian  troubles  aborts 
the  "  Hills,"  when  cattle  men  had  newly  discovered 
the  many  advantages  of  the  range  of  country  lying  % 
immediately  south  and  west  of  the  Black  Hills.  It 
would,  in  fact,  have  been  impossible  to  have  carried 
out  so  daring  a  scheme  on  an  older  and  more  closely 
guarded  range. 

One  of  the  first  ranches  to  occupy  a  portion  of  this 
excellent  grass  region  was  built  at  Dead  Cedar  Forks 
on  West  Dry  Wood,  and  was  owned  by  the  Cheyenno 
Cattle  Company.  It  started  with  two  thousand  head 
of  stock,  and  its  brand  duly  recorded  in  the  nearest 
stock  journals  was  J  V,  the  initials  of  an  old  ranch  man 

18 


gscmmiR,  SKETCHES,  19 

and  chief  stockholder,  Joe  Villemont.  The  letters 
were  simply  formed,  about  eight  inches  in  height  and 
eight  inches  apart,  and  were  stamped  upon  the  broad 
sides,  always  on  the  right  of  the  company's  cattle,  and 
in  smaller  letters  upon  the  left  hips  of  its  horses. 

"  Old  Joe,"  as  Villemont's  men  called  him,  had 
always  been  averse  to  the  cruelty  of  the  big,  compli- 
cated brands  which  disfigure  the  cattle  upon  so  many 
ranges,  and  which  must  cause  so  much  suffering  in  the 
stamping,  and  afterward  until  the  wound  heals. 
Accordingly  he  had  always  used  the  simplest  and 
smallest  brand  that  would  identify  his  stock. 

At  about  the  time  the  J  V  ranch,  as  it  was  called, 
was  established,  several  other  cattle-owners  came  into 
the  region,  bringing  large  droves  of  cattle,  and  built 
ranches  on  Horse  Head  and  Hat  Creeks,  and  at  the 
head  of  White  River,  and  the  Running  "Water,  and  the 
"  L  Z's,"  "  Circle  Bars  "  =0*  "  K— 23's,"  "  Goose  Eggs/' 
u  000  "  and  others,  took  their  places  with  the  "  J  Vs" 
upon  the  range. 

The  circuit  of  a  "  round-up  "  was  soon  determined 
upon,  and  the  cow-boys  of  each  ranch  soon  made 
themselves  familiar  with  the  various  brands  upon  their 
riding  circuit. 

It  was  at  the  third  general  round-up,  in  June  of  the 
second  year,  that  the  boys  working  to  the  northwest 
discovered  a  new  brand  upon  that  part  of  the  range, 
and  searching  their  recordrbook  of  Nebraska,  "Wyom- 
ing and  Dakota  brands  could  find  no  marking  to  cor- 
respond. The  new  brand  was  " bar  YN"  thus,  Y JS 
stamped  upon  the  right  broad  side,  and  supplemented 
by  a  new  moon    upon  the  right  hip. 

It  was  a  camp  on  Lightning  creek,  a  number  of  the 


30  FBQNTEEB  SKETCHES. 

"Circle  Bars"  and  "JV"  men,  who  first  found  stocjfc 
carrying  the  "bar  Y  N"  brand,  as  they  named  it. 
They  found  several  steers  and  eighteen  or  twenty  cows 
bearing  it,  in  the  first  bunch  they  rounded  up  and  cor- 
ralled at  the  Lightning  Creek  branding  pens.  The 
markings  seemed  rather  fresh,  and  the  calves  which 
were  running  with  the  cows  were  not  yet  branded. 

There  was  no  little  speculation  in  the  camp  that  even- 
ing, after  the  stock-book  had  been  inspected  by  the 
foreman,  as  to  where  these  cattle  belonged.  It  was 
supposed  that  they  must  be  strays  from  some  recently 
established  ranch  farther  north— -one  probably  that  had 
just  run  in  a  lot  of  fresh-branded  stock  and  had  not  yet 
advertised  its  brand. 

As  the  camp  moved  north  and  made  a  new  branding 
pen  on  Old  Woman  Creek  the  bar  Y  N  stock  became 
more  numerous  until  it  was  calculated  there  must  be 
a  hundred  and  fifty  or  more  of  them ;  and  tjie  out-rid- 
ing cowboys  began  to  keep  their  eyes  open  for  signs  of 
a  ranch. 

The  mystery  seemed  to  be  solved  one  evening  by  the 
appearance  in  camp  just  at  supper  time  of  a  horseman 
who  reined  up  with'a  hearty  "  How  do  ? "  and  alighted. 
He  was  a  slim,  dark-looking  fellow,  dressed  in  a  well- 
worn  suit  of  corduroy,  and  wearing  the  regulation 
slouch  hat  and  high  top  boots. 

"Well,"  said  he,  as  the  foreman  of  the  camp  came 
forward,  "  Well,  I  suppose  you've  discovered  a  new 
brand  on  your  range  down  hero, — the  { bar  YNV  eh  ? " 

The  foreman  said  they  had,  and  then  asked  if  he 
represented  that  stock,  to  which  the  stranger  replied 
that  he  was  superintendent  of  the  ranch  to  which  it 
belonged,  a  ranch  which  had  been  newly  established 


on  the  Little  Missouri  range,  that  they  had  shipped 
oat  a  lot  of  Minnesota  cattle  in  March,  and  driven 
them  down  from  the  Northern  Pacific,  having  hay 
enough  on  hand  to  keep  them  from  running  down 
until  grass  should  start  up  fresh  in  April.   - 

They  had  expected  to  hold  them  without  trouble, 
but  there  came  a  three  days'  blizzard,  which  the  J  V 
and  Circle  Bar  men  had  experienced  also,,  from  the 
north,  caught  a  lot  of  them  out,  and  ran  them  off  to 
the  south.  There  were  about  seven  hundred  of  these 
new  cattle  gone  from  their  ranch,  he  said,  and  they  had 
found  them  scattered  all  the  way  from  Belle  Fourche 
to  Hat  Creek. 

He  then  drew,  a  Montana  stock  journal  from  his 
breast  pocket  and  pointed  out  his  brand  advertised  as 
the  property  of  the  "  Minnesota  &  Montana  Cattle 
Company,"  and  went  on  to  say  that  he  had  brought 
down  three  of  his  men  to  begin  at  the  southernmost 
point  at  which  their  stock  was  to  be  found,  and  work 
back  toward  home,  gathering  the  cattle  as  they  went. 

"We'll  take  what  calves  you  leave  us,"  he  said, 
laughingly,  "  for  you  will  be  through  with  your  brand- 
ing before  we  fairly  get  to  work  ! " 

He  remarked  that  his  camp,  temporary,  of  course, 
was  on  a  creek  about  twenty  miles  east,  and  that  he 
had  merely  stumbled  upon  the  round-up  by  chance 
while  looking  for  his  own  brand. 

His  story,  perfectly  plausible  and  established  by  an 
advertisement  in  an  accredited  stock  journal,  made  him 
heartily  welcome  at  the  cow-camp,  where  he  was 
immediately  invited  to  take  supper,  and,  as  it  rained 
that  evening,  he  shared  the  foreman's  bed,  under  the 
cover  of  a  big  supply  wagon. 


22  FRONTIER-  SKETCHES. 

It  was  about  a  week  after  this  that  the  round-up 
broke  camp,  and  in  the  meantime  two  other  cow-men 
were  met  in  search  of  bar  Y  N  stock.  Rather 
rough-looking  fellows  they  were — hardly  up  to  the 
standard  of  "number  one  punchers"  the  men  thought 
them.  Two  of  the  J  Y  boys, "  Griff  "  Mosher  and  Tom 
Dodd,  with  an  extra  pony  and  a  week's  supplies,  were 
left  to  look  up  several  ponies  which  had  strayed  from 
the  camp  at  Indian  Creek,  while  the  others  moved  to 
another  part  of  the  range. 

Griff  and  Tom  "rustled"  around  lively  for  a  few 
days,  picked  up  all  of  the  ponies  but  two,  five  had 
strayed,  and  giving  those  up  for  lost  had  started  from 
Lightning  Creek  to  go  to  the  J  Y  ranch  on  Dry 
Wood.  They  were  riding  down  into  the  deep  valley 
of  a  small  run  in  search  of  water  and  a  camp  for  the 
first  evening,  when  they  came  upon  a  large  bunch  of 
cattle  grazing  upon  the  bottom  and  side  hill. 

Upon  approaching  they  discovered  the  brand  bar  Y 
N  upon  the  nearest  ones,  and  struck  by  the  size  of  the 
drove,  rode  through  them  to  discover,  if  possible, 
whether  they  all  had  that  mark.  It  seemed  so ;  at 
least,  they  could  see  no  other  markings  except  the  new 
moon  looking  remarkably  fresh  upon  the  right  hip  of 
each  creature  inspected. 

"Hum,"  said  Griff,  as  they  rode  forward,  "them 
fellows  hev  rounded  up  a  big  lot  of  strays  right  here, 
haint  they  now  ?  Say,  Tom,  don't  it  'pear  sort  o' 
strange  that  they  haint  a  spotted  critter  in  the  whole 
bunch  ? " 

Tom  cast  his  eyes  over  the  lot  with  some  astonish- 
ment. 

"  That's  so,"  he  admitted;  " not  a  one." 


/ 

FEONTIEB   SKETCHES.  23 

"And  say,"  said  Griff,  pulling  up  with,  sudden  energy, 
f  if  that  big  yellow  steer  there  with  the  wide  horns 
haint  the  one  we  hed  such  a  tussle  with  a-rebrandin' 
him  over  at  Old  Woman  last  fall,  I'll  eat  my  hat." 

Tom  emphatically  coincided  with  him. 

"  Tes,  an'  what's  more,"  fairly  shouted  Griff,  "  I  can 
see  a  dozen  cows  I'd  swear  to  as  J  V's  this  minute ! 
Here,  cut  loose  the  horses  an'  let's  down  that  red  heifer 
thar  with  a  fresh  brand  on  'er,  an'  hev  a  look  at  it ! " 

It  was  the  work  of  three  or  four  minutes  for  these 
practiced  "  ropers  "  to  catch  the  heifer,  throw  her,  and 
examine  her  brand.  It  also  took  but  a  hasty  scrutiny 
to  discover  that  an  old  marking  of  J  Y  had  been 
changed  to  T  JN"  by  adding  fresh  "  lean  tos  "  to  the 
original  letters,  with^a  bar  and  the  new  moon  to  make 
the  deception  more  complete. 

Griff  and  Tom  wasted  no  time,  but  set  their  wits  at 
work,  to  plan  a  capture  of  the  daring  rascals,  or,  at 
least,  to  take  steps  at  once  to  prevent  them  from  run- 
ning off  the  stock,  as — from  the  gathering  of  so  large  a 
bunch — it  was  evident  they  intended  doing  soon. 

Luckily,  as  they  believed,  the  fellows  had  not 
discovered  their  presence  in  the  valley,  and  were 
probably  camped  at  no  great  distance  above  or  below. 
As  there  were  known  to  be  four  of  them  at  least,  the 
boys  felt  that  it  would  be  too  risky  to  attempt  to  cope 
with  them  alone,  and  they  determined  to  ride  to  the 
ranch  at  Dead  Cedar  Forks,  and  rally  a  crowd  if  any 
men  could  be  found  there. 

They  mounted,  passed  through  a  narrow  draw  tc 
the  creek  and  up  another  to  the  high  ground  beyond, 
and  then  rod8  hard  all  night,  changing  ponies  fre- 
quently, and  only  stopping  twice  for  water,   and  a 


M  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

half -hour's  rest  at  noon  or  a  little  before  they  reaua.**. 
the  J  V  ranch. 

There  was  no  one  there  except  Lame  Johnnie,  the 
cook,  and  he  had  not  seen  a  man,  he  said,  for  five 
days;  didn't  know  where  any  of  the  boys  were  or 
when  they'd  be  in. 

Johnnie  himself  could  not  ride  on  account  of  his 
wretched  legs ;  and  while  they  were  off  hunting  up  a 
crowd  the  thieves  might  drive  the  cattle  through  to 
Montana  and  sell  them. 

Not  an  hour  was  wasted;  the  two  ~bold  fellows 
determined  to  make  an  attempt  to  recapture  the  stock 
unassisted.  Arming  themselves  with  Winchesters 
from  the  ranch  in  addition  to  their  six-shooters,  and 
selecting  four  of  the  best  ponies  from  the  corral,  they 
rode  swiftly  back  over  the  route  they  had  traveled  in 
the  morning. 

They  gave  themselves  three  hours'  sleep  that  night, 
and  the  next  morning  halted  at  the  creek  where  they 
had  found  the  bunch  of  stock  with  the  stolen  brand 
upon  them.   - 

As  they  had  feared,  the  cattle  were  gone ;  there  was 
not  a  creature  except  a  few  head  of  L  Z  and  Circle 
Bar  stock  to  be  seen  in  the  region.  But  after  two 
hours'  search  to  the  northward  of  where  they  had 
struck  the  stream,  they  came  upon  a  well-defined  and 
fresh  trail  of  a  lot  of  cattle  going  north,  and  knew 
they  were  upon  the  right  track.  The  cattle  had  been 
started  the  day  before,  as  near  as  the  boys  could  judge, 
or  the  day  after  they  had  seen  them. 

They  followed  the  trail  at  a  racking  gait  until  it 
became  too  dark  to  trace  it  without  difficulty,  then 
picketed  their  tired  ponies,  ate  a  cold  lunch,  and  gave 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  2S 

themselves  up  to  a  night  of  refreshing  and  much 
needed  sleep. 

All  the  next  day  they  rode  hard  upon  the  trail,  but 
did  not  come  up  with  the  thieves,  who,  they  concluded, 
were  pushing  the  stock  at  a  terrible  rate,  probably 
fearing  that  they  were  pursued,  as,  indeed,  for  aught 
Griff  and  Tom  knew,  they  themselves  might  have  been 
within  plain  sight  of  some  or  all  of  the  thieves,  while 
making  the  discovery  of  the  fradulent  brand. 

It  was  easy  to  keep  hidden  among  these  breaks  and 
gulches. 

It  was  not  until  late  in  the  afternoon  of  the  third 
day's  chase  that  they  sighted  the  drove  just  descending 
into  a  narrow  and  canon-like  valley  of  a  tributary  of 
the  Belle  Fourche. 

Believing  the  thieves  would  stick  to  this  narrow  val- 
ley in  order  to  keep  well  hidden,  the  boys  circled,  rode 
rapidly  around  them,  and  descended  into  the  valley  i»i 
their  front,  as  they  could  tell  by  the  cloud  of  dust  that 
rose  continually  above  the  herd.  They  reached  the 
level  of  the  stream  at  the  mouth  of  a  gulch  about  sun- 
down. 

Knowing  that  the  cattle  thieves  would  be  on  the 
alert,  the  two  cowboys  had  formed  no  plan  save  that  of 
immediate  attack  upon  them  from  the  nearest  point. of 
vantage  and  the  most  unexpected  to  the  attacked  that 
could  be  gained. 

The  spot  they  had  happened  upon  was  well  adapted 
to  an  ambush.  They  picketed  their  ponies  some  rods 
from  the  mouth  of  the  gulch  and  out  of  sight,  and  then 
the  determined  fellows,  with  their  "Winchesters  and 
revolvers,  and  abundance  of  ammunition,  placed  them- 


26  FRONTIER  SKETCHES,, 

selves  behind  a  small  bank  and  awaited  the  approach 
of  the  robbers  as  they  urged  the  stock  along  the  canon. 

The  cloud  of  dust  rolled  down,  and  the  leaders  of 
the  herd  came  in  sight  climbing  out  of  a  gulch  a  few- 
rods  distant.  Yells  and  the  cracking  of  stock  whips 
-could  now  be  heard  above  the  trampling  and  lowing  of 
the  cattle. 

It  was  growing  dusk,  and  the  thick  dust  which  rose 
from  the  dry,  grassless  soil  of  the  canon  made  it 
impossible  to  see  more  than  a  few  rods  with  certainty. 
But  soon  at  the  tail  of  the  herd  two  horsemen  appeared, 
then  another,  then  a  fourth.  They  were  riding  not  far 
apart,  the  nearest  about  fifty  yards  away,  and  rather 
dimly  outlined  in  the  dust  and  growing  darkness. 

Griff  and  Tom  laid  down  their  Winchesters,  and 
with  self-cocking  revolvers  opened  fire  upon  the 
miscreants. 

The  first  shots  had  no  other  effect  than  to  cause  the 
thieves  to  leap  from  their  saddles  and  get  behind  their 
ponies.  That  they  did  not  immediately  ride  out  of 
range  was  no  doubt  owing  to  the  fear  that  they  had 
been  surrounded,  and  that  these  shots  were  merely 
to  drive  them  upon  the  muzzles  of  other  guns  upon  the 
other  side  or  in  the  rear. 

They  were  not  altogether  cowards,  either,  for  they 
returned  fire  at  once,  and  for  a  few  moments  the  canon 
witnessed  one  of  those  fierce  shooting  affrays  which 
sometimes  occur  between  the  outraged  citizen  and  the 
desperado  of  the  plains  and  mountains. 

"  Crack !  crack !  crack ! "  the  thieves  fired  across  their 
horses'  backs  at  the  heads  and  shoulders  which  Griff 
and  Tom  offered  as  marks,  while  the  incensed  and 
excited  cowboys  emptied  their  revolvers,  and  then 


FRONTIER    SKETCHES.  27 

caught  up  their  Winchesters  and  "  pumped "  forty- 
five's  in  rapid  succession. 

These  last  weapons  settled  the  affair  speedily,  their 
length  and  steadiness  gave  a  better  and  truer  aim  than 
could  be  got  with  revolvers. 

First  a  pony  went  down,  then  one  of  the  thieves  got  a 
bullet  in  his  leg  and  led  his  horse  away  while  he  limped 
at  his  side.  The  man  whose  horse  was  shot  took  to 
his  heels  and  ran  away.  One  of  the  others  exposed 
himself  while  mounting,  and  rode  away  hanging  across 
his  horse's  wethers.  The  other  sprang  upon  his  pony, 
and  galloped  off  up  the  canon. 

In  three  minutes  from  the  time  the  firing  began  the 
thieves  were  whipped,  "  cleaned  out "  in  Western  par- 
lance, and  gone,  and  the  two  plucky  cowboys  had  come 
off  without  a  scratch. 

They  dared  not  attempt  to  follow  up  their  advan- 
tage, however,  but  rode  immediately  after  the  stock, 
which  they  succeeded  in  getting  out  of  the  canon,  and 
twenty  miles  on  the  route  toward  home  before  morn- 
ing. 

After  that  they  took  it  leisurely,  only  keeping  a 
sharp  lookout,  and  taking  turns  in  guarding  the  stock 
closely  at  night.  They  saw  no  more  of  the  thieves 
who  had,  no  doubt,  had  enough  of  cattle  stealing  for 
once. 

The  Cheyenne  Cattle  Company  rewarded  this  bold 
exploit  as  it  deserved,  by  raising  the  wages  of  Griff 
and  Tom  each  from  forty -five  to  sixty  dollars  per 
month. 


m. 

CORSON'S  WIFE. 

It  would  be  hard  to, find  in  the  Kocky  Mountains  a 
rougher  stage  road  than  that  which  runs  between  the 
mining  hamlets  of  Thunder  Gulch  and  Squaw  Forks. 
Indeed,  if  a  worse  road  could  be  found,  there  are  few 
persons  who  would  care  for  a  seat  in  the  coach  of  the 
most  careful  driver. 

This  road  is  twelve  or  thirteen  miles  long.  A  few 
years  ago  a  lady  who  ventured  to  ride  over  it  called  it 
"The  Twelve-Mile  Horror,"  and  by  this  name  the  road 
is  known  to  miners  and  travelers  of  the  region.  That 
the  name  is  deserved  the  writer  can  testify,  for  he 
knows  it  to  be  truly  a  rambling  thread  over  dizzy 
precipices  and  among  black,  gaping  canons. 

There  are  places  along  the  verge  of  cliffs  and  around 
the  juttingpoints  of  yawning  gulches  where  the  coach 
seems  literally  suspended  in  mid-air,  and  the  rider, 
glancing  out  over  the  wheels  into  the  sheer,  gaping 
space  below,  hastily  pulls  down  the  "  flaps,"  closes  his 
eyes,  and  leans  dizzily  back  in  his  seat,  not  daring  to 
look  a  second  time. 

For  five  years  Gideon  Fletcher,  or  "  Gid,"  as  he  is 
commonly  called,  has  driven  the  stage  once  each  day, 
Sundays  excepted,  from  Squaw  Forks  to  Thunder  Gulch 
and  back.  Of  course,  he  has  occasionally  missed  a 
trip,  when  slides  or  heavy  falls  of  snow  along  the  line 
have  prevented  him  from  running.  Yet  during  all  his 
fifteen  hundred  "  round  trips  "  he  has  never  met  with 

28 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  W 

an  accident  serious  enough  to  cause  the  loss  of  life  or 

limb  to  his  passengers. 

So  trusty  and  sure-handed  a  driver  is  he  that  the 
"  contractors  of  the  line  "  will  have  no  other,  and  they 
pay  him  double  wages  to  keep  him  upon  this  particular 
stretch  of  their  route.  Only  once  has  a  coach  been 
demolished  or  a  horse  killed  under  his  management ; 
but  on  that  occasion  he  met  with  a  double  accident, 
under  circumstances  so  stirring  and  heroic  as  to  be  well 
worthy  of  narration. 

It  was  some  two  years  after  Gideon  had  begun  driv- 
ing the  coach  upon  this  road  that  one  day,  asiie  came 
out  from  eating  his  dinner  at  "  The  Bough-and-Tumble 
House"  of  Thunder  Gulch,  a  pale-faced  young  woman 
appeared  at  the  rude  gate,  and  beckoned  to  him. 

"Are  you  the  stage-driver  that  drives  the  stage  to 
Squaw  Forks  this  afternoon  ? "  she  asked,  as  he  came  up. 

"  I  reckon  I'm  the  chap  yer  lookin'  fer,  mum,"  said 
Gideon.    "  Want  ter  go  down  ?    Start  in  half  a  hour." 

The  woman  glanced  about  nervously,  as  though  fear- 
ful of  being  overheard,  and  then  she  said,  hurriedly 
and  in  a  low  voice : 

rt  I'm  from  Corson's  Camp.  I'm  Corson's  wife ;  but 
he — they  all — abuse  me  dreadfully,  and  the  baby  too. 
Look  here,"  and  she  threw  an  old  bonnet  she  wore 
back  from  her  forehead,  and  showed  a  great  fresh  scar 
across  one  temple. 

"I  got  that  last  night.  They  do  it  when  they're 
drunk,  and  they're  drunk  most  of  the  time.  Night 
before  last  one  of  'em  threatened  to  throw  my  baby 
into  a  hot  spring.  He  said  he'd  ( kill  the  little  imp,  he 
would,'  and  oh,  I  can't,  I  don't  dare  to  stay  there  any 
longer!    I'm  the  only  woman  up  at  the  camp,  and 


jfiKUrfflEB  SKETCHES*  Hi 

to-day  the  men  are  all  up  at  Big  Horn  Spring  pros- 
pactin'  for  a  new  place,  and  so  I've  come  to  you  to  see 
if  you  won't  take  me  away  from  this  dreadful  place. 

"  I've  no  money  with  me,  an'  no  friends  nearer  than 
Denver.  My  folks  live  there,  and  I  would  have  wrote 
to  'em  to  come  and  take  me  away  if  I  dared ;  but  I 
knew  if  Corson  got  wind  of  it  before  they  got  here  he'd 
kill  me  and  the  baby,  too ;  for  though  he's  my  husband 
he's  the  most  horrid  and  wicked  man  I  ever  saw,  except 
the  gang  he  keeps  around  him.  Oh,  will  you  let  me 
go  with  you  % " 

"  Wal,  now,  I  sh'd  smile ! "  answered  Fletcher,  in  his 
hearty  way.  "  You  jest  go  V  git  yer  baby  'n'  yer 
fixin's,  'n'  we'll  git  out  o*  these  diggin's  in  a  jiffy." 

"  Oh,  I  daresn't  come  here  to  start,"  she  replied ; 
"  but  in  an  hour  I'll  be  down  at  the  mouth  of  the  'Gap ' 
below.  If  I  should  come  here,  Corson  would  find  out 
soon  as  he  comes  back  that  I'd  started  off  with  you, 
and  they'd  like  enough  catch  us  before  we'd  got  down 
to  the  Forks. 

rt  Some  of  'em  may  be  back  any  minute ;  like  enough 
they're  there  now ;  but  I'm  going  to  sneak  away  With 
baby  somehow,  if  they  are.  There  don't  seem  to  be 
anybody  hangin'  round  here  now.  All  off  but  the 
women  folks,  I  s'pose,  and  it  looks  like  I'd  have  a  good 
chance  to  get  off  without  anybody's  knowin'  how  or 
where  I  went,"  and  with  this  she  turned  and  sped 
away. 

"  I'll  wait  for  ye,  sure,"  Gideon  assured  her  as  she 
started. 

He  hung  about  the  stable  of  the  Eough-and-Tumble 
longer  than  usual  that  noon,  pretending  to  one  of  the 
women  that  came  out  presently  that  he  had  to  "  fix  * 


3S  FRONTIER  SKET0HE8. 

something  about  his  harness  before  he  started  on  the 
return  trip. 

"  Everybody's  gone  off  crazy  'bout  the  new  placer  up 
at  Big  Horn,"  they  had  told  him  at  the  table,  "  'n  lef 
nobody  but  ther  women  folks 't  the  Gulch." 

In  about  an  hour  from  the  time  he  had  finished 
dinner,  Gideon  and  his  coach  were  in  waiting  at  the 
mouth  of  Melcher's  Gap.  It  was  about  half  an  hour 
later  when  the  woman,  with  her  child  in  arms,  came 
hurrying  breathlessly  down  to  him.  She  looked  behind 
her  frequently,  and  he  saw  as  she  approached  that  her 
face  was  white  with  fear  and  suspense. 

The  baby,  a  wretched  little  year-old  object,  dressed, 
like  its  mother,  in  mere  rags,  turned  its  poor  and  piti- 
ful little  face  upon  the  driver  with  a  wan  smile  that,  as 
he  said,  "  fetched"  him  " clear  to  the  boots." 

"  Oh,  you  must  drive  fast,"  cried  the  poor  woman,  as 
she  clambered  into  the  coach  without  waiting  for  the 
proffered  help,  "  for  they've  come  back,  as  I  was  afraid ! 
Corson  and  two  of  the  men,  and  they're  going  to  break 
camp  and  move  up  to  Big  Horn  this  afternoon.  They 
daresn't  trust  me  there  alone,  for  I  am  some  good  to 
'em  in  cookin'  and  keepin'  camp.  I  knew  this  was  the 
last  chance  to  git  free,  so  I  took  the  haby  and  started 
down  to  the  spring  for  a  pail  of  water,  and  when  I  got 
out  of  sight  I  just  run  for  here,  and  you  must  go,  go? 
for  they'll  sure  be  after  us  ! " 

"  I'll  go  fast  enough,"  answered  Gideon  cheerily, 
"  an'  don't  you  be  afraid  they'll  ketch  us  neither  on 
them  leetle  mountain  ponies." 

But  though  he  spoke  with  such  assurance  and  deter- 
mination, he  did  not  feel  at  all  sure  of  the  outcome  of  a 
race  if  the  men  at  Corson's  camp  should  soon  discover 


JTSONTIER  SKETCHES,  $8 

the  woman's  flight  and  follow.  He  felt  that  he  had 
taken  an  extremely  hazardous  exploit,  considering  the 
dangerous  route  he  had  to  drive  over  and  the  characters 
of  the  men,  who,  he  had  not  a  doubt,  would  be- upon  his 
trail  within  the  next  half  hour. 

The  spring  at  Corson's  Camp  he  knew  was  in  a 
ravine  at  the  head  of  Melcher's  Gap,  and  as  this  canon 
was  the  only  outlet  in  that  direction,  Corson  could  not 
long  remain  ignorant  of  his  wife's  line  of  flight  after  he 
had  discovered,  as  he  soon  must,  that  she  was  truly 
gone. 

But  the  woman  and  her  baby,  in  such  evident  and 
distressing  need- of  rescue,  had  "fetched  him,"  and  the 
brave  driver,  looking  to  his  revolvers  to  see  that  the 
chambers  were  all  loaded,  drew  in  the  lines  and 
urged  forward  his  horses  at  as  great  a  rate  of  speed  as 
the  nature  of  the  road  would  warrant. 

For  a  half  hour  or  more  the  coach  rattled  forward  at 
a  dangerous  pace,  for  these  first  few  miles  were  the 
roughest  part  of  the  road.  Up  and  down  it  went 
through  deep  gorges,  scaling  precipitous  "  hog  backs," 
and  swaying  far  above  the  verge  of  cavernous  canons. 
From  the  point  of  every  turn  that  commanded  a  view 
of  the  trail  behind,  Gid  cast  anxious  glances  backward, 
to  note  if  anyone  were  yet  in  pursuit. 
-  At  the  "  half-mile  stone,"  which  was  supposed  to 
mark  a  spot  midway  between  Thunder  Gulch  and 
Squaw  Forks,  was  a  height  from  which  a  good  portion 
of  the  road  for  two  miles  back  could  be  seen,  and  here 
it  was  that  the  driver  discovered,  indeed,  that  Oorson 
and  his  men  were  following  them.  A  single  glano« 
sufficed  to  reveal  them — three  horsemen—riding  at  a 


34  tfMOKtUEB  SUETOmift, 

breakneck  gallop  over  the  crest  of  a  long  hog-bacfc 
some  mile  and  a  half  in  the  rear  of  the  coach. 

"  A  flight  for  life,"  thought  Gideon,  and  he  cracked 
his  long  whip  above  the  ears  of  the  already  fretted 
stage-team.  The  horses  were  not  unwilling  to  go 
faster,  however,  on  the  contrary  they  seemed  nervous 
and  frightened  at  such  unusual  driving,  and  sprang 
forward  at  a  pace  which  the  driver  soon  found  it 
necessary  to  check  by  vigorous  pulling  at  their  reins. 

"  Are  they  coming  ?  Did  you  see  them  ? "  screamed 
the  woman,  frightened  at  the  swaying  and  rocking  of 
the  stage  as  they  rounded  a  curve. 

"Oh,  we're  all  right!"  the  driver  shouted  back, 
evading  a  direct  answer.  "  The  road  ain't  bad,  hyar ! 
An'  I'm  a-tryin'  ter  make  up  fer  whar  His. " 

The  coach  tore  along,  pitching  crazily  down  into 
deep  gullies,  and  swaying  wildly  above  the  crests  of 
abrupt  cliffs  or  the  sides  of  gulf-like  ravines. 

It  was  quite  a  number  of  minutes  before  Gideon 
caught  sight  of  the  pursuing  horsemen  again,  but 
when  he  did,  as  they  came  around  the  point  of  a 
mountain  spur,  they  had  gained  perceptibly  upon  the 
coach,  and  the  question  of  being  overtaken  had 
narrowed  to  one  merely  of  time.  And  now  the  driver 
began  to  canvass  the  chances  of  making  a  successful 
defense  when  he  should  be  finally  overtaken. 

There  was  a  point  nearly  two  miles  ahead,  where, 
if  he  could  only  reach  it,  the  road  ran  along  the  foot 
of  a  narrow  ledge  and  above  a  precipitous  gulch,  and 
where  he  thought  he  might  halt  the  coach  behind  a 
sheltering  point  of  rocks,  and  "  stand  off  "  their  pur- 
suers with  his  revolvers.    He  was  now  determined  at 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES,  $& 

every  hazard  to  keep  the  woman  and  her  child  out  of 

the  clutches  of  her  pursuers. 

"With  this  goal  and  end  in  view,  then,  he  drove  with 
a  recklessness,  which  in  any  less  urgent  case  would 
have  been  mad,  indeed.  More  than  once  the  poor 
woman  screamed  with  fright,  as  the  hack  lunged  for- 
ward or  careened  over,  and  ran  several  yards  on  two 
wheels. 

But  Fletcher  kept  a  steady  and  strong  rein  on  his 
animals,  and  threw  his  weight  to  one  side  or  the  other 
as  the  coach  rocked  and  threatened  to  overturn. 

Several  minutes  passed  in  this  mad  flight,  when, 
glancing  back  at  a  smooth  turn,  the  driver  caught 
another  view  of  Corson  and  his  men ;  they  were  now 
pressing  hard  upon  him.  There  was  but  a  few  min- 
utes more  to  spare  in  racing,  but  Gideon  had  reached 
a  point  where,  if  no  accident  should  occur,  he  felt  cer- 
tain of  gaining  the  narrow  pass. 

His  horses  were  sweating  profusely  from  fright  and 
exertion,  but  still  seemed  full  of  energy. 

On,  on,  they  flew.  It  was  wonderful  that  the  coach 
kept  right  side  up,  while  the  poor  frightened  woman 
inside  clung  frantically  to  her  seat  with  one  arm,  and 
to  her  babe  with  the  other. 

Another  half-mile  was  passed  safely,  and  Gideon 
felt  a  thrill  of  triumph  as  he  struck  the  mountain  spur, 
upon  the  other  side  of  which  he  felt  sure  of  making  a 
successful  stand  against  their  pursuers.  Both  at  the 
Gulch  and  the  Forks,  he  was  known  as  a  " crack  shot" 
with  his  revolvers,  and  those  three  fellows,  he  thought, 
with  no  little  judgment,  wouldn't  care  u  to  run  up  agin 
'em, 5;  when  once  he  had  gained  the  shelter  of  the  jut- 
ting rocks  on  the  other  side. 


36  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

But  just  as  he  reached  the  point  of  the  spur,  and 
when  too  late,  he  remembered  a  dangerous  curve  in 
front,  where,  going  at  their  present  rate  of  speed,  the 
hack  must  inevitably  be  thrown  off  the  ledge  by  its 
own  momentum.  It  was  a  short  turn  upon  a  steep 
bench  with  a  ledge  above  and  a  chasm  below. 

He  threw  all  his  weight  in  a  backward  pull  upon  the 
lines,  but  the  team,  now  thoroughly  frightened  and_^ 
wildly  excited  by  their  furious  run,  refused  to  obey  the 
reins,  and  plunged  recklessly  ahead. 

They  were  now  within  a  few  rods  of  the  fatal  turn, 
and  Gideon,  foreseeing  instant  catastrophe,  dropped 
the  lines,  sprang  over  the  back  of  his  seat,  and  catch- 
ing-both  woman  and  child  in  his  arms,  jumped  out  with 
them  upon  the  upper  side  of  the  road. 

They  were  scarcely  out  of  the  hack  when  the  vehicle 
"  sloughed  "  off  the  road,  overturned,  and,  as  it  did  so* 
wrenched  the  team  off  the  narrow  "  dug- way." 

The  poor  animals  scrambled  resistingly  for  an  instant, 
then  one  lost  its  footing  and  fell ;  the  other  plunged 
over  it,  and  coach  and  all  went  crashing  into  the  bottom 
of  the  gulch  below.  Gideon  had  time  to  note  this,  as 
he  says,  even  while  trembling  with  his  precious  freight 
from  the  bank  of  the  spur,  against  which  he  had  leaped, 
into  the  road-bed. 

Luckily  the  bank  at  that  point  was  of  earth  instead 
of  rocks — the  ledge  was  but  a  few  steps  further  on — and 
the  three,  though  shocked  and  jarred,  were  unharmed 
by  their  violent  exit  from  the  hack. 

Gideon,  however,  did  not  stop  an  instant  to  note 
whether  the  woman  or  her  child  were  injured,  but 
gathering  the  baby  on  one  arm  and  grasping  its  moth- 


seossTiBs  sketches.  iri 

3r*s  arm  with  his  free  hand,  ran  forward,  carrying  the 
one  and  fairly  dragging  the  other. 

Just  a  few  steps  beyond  the  ledge  were  several  big 
boulders  on  the  lower  side  of  the  road.  To  gain  the 
shelter  of  those  before  Corson  and  his  men  came  in 
sight  was  now  Gid's  object. 

Before  the  boulders  were  reached,  he  could  hear  the 
clatter  of  hoofs  around  the  curve.  The  men  were  in 
close  pursuit  and  riding  hard,  but  by  dint  of  great 
exertion  Gideon  reached  the  rocks  with  his  charges  a 
minute  or  two  before  the  pursuers  rounded  the  point. 

"Set  close  behind  hyar,"  he  commanded  the  woman, 
"  and  hyar,  take  your  babby  V  keep  es  quiet  *n*  es 
cool  es  ye  ken." 

Then  he  drew  a  revolver  from  one  of  the  holsters  at 
his  hips,  and  dropping  upon  his  knees  at  a  spot  where 
he  could  peer  through  between  two  of  the  boulders, 
cocked  the  weapon,  and  leveled  it  upon  the  road  pre- 
paratory to  halting  the  fellows  with  a  shot  as  soon  as 
they  came  in  sight. 

He  had  not  a  second  to  wait  before  the  leader 
appeared  at  a  point  just  beyond  where  the  stage  and 
team  had  gone  off  the  bench  and  over  the  cliff. 

It  was  Corson  himself,  but  he  had  "  slowed  up, "  and 
before  Gideon  could  make  up  his  mind  to  fire,  he  sud- 
denly drew  rein,  and  gave  utterance  as  he  did  so  to  a 
loud  and  excited  oath. 

He  had  discovered  what  had  happened  to  the  stage 
by  means— as  was  afterwards  proved-— of  a  sheep-skin 
seat  cushion,  which  had  been  flung  out  of  the  hack  as 
it  overturned,  and  had  lodged  on  top  of  the  ledge. 

The  other  two  men  came  up  almost  instantly  and 
halted,  and  then  the  three  dismounted  and  talked 


excitedly  together— thoagh  Gideon  could  not  distin- 
guish what  they  said — and  one  of  them  went  forward 
and  peered  long  and  intently  over  the  ledge. 

But  either  he  dared  not  go  near  enough  to  the  verge 
of  the  precipice  to  see  plainly  to  the  base,  or  he  could 
not  clearly  make  out  the  wreck  on  account  of  the 
chaparral  thicket  below,  for,  after  gazing  a  minute,  he 
shook  his  head  decidedly,  as  though  convinced  that 
passengers  and  all  had  gone  over,  and  then  all  three 
quickly  remounted,  wheeled  their  ponies  about  upon 
the  "  dug- way,"  and  disappeared  as  rapidly  as  they  had 
come. 

"  Unyhugh! "  grunted  Gideon,  with  great  satisfaction, 
"ye  think  ye've  ran  us  over  thar  'n'  smashed  the  hull 
outfit,  don't  ye,  'n'  ye've  skipped  mighty  sudden  for 
fear  t'  sumun  'd  come  along  'n'  diskiver  yer  deviltry, 
haint  ye  ? " 

Then  he  told  Mrs.  Corson  to  get  up,  and  taking  the 
child  from  her  arms — the  scared  little  thing  had  slept 
as  quiet  as  a  young  partridge  in  hiding— helped  her  to 
rise  and  led  her  out  upon  the  road. 

The  woman  had  seemed  like  one  dazed  while  lying 
there  in  hiding,  but  now  that  she  understood  that  the 
man  she  so  feared  had  really  gone  she  plucked  up 
courage,  and  declared  that  she  could  easily  walk  the 
remainder  of  the  way  to  Squaw  Forks— there  being  no 
habitations  at  that  time  between  the  two  points. 

They  reached  the  little  town  after  a  wearisome  tramp 
over  the  rough  road. 

Their  arrival  and  the  story  of  their  adventure  and 
escape  created  great  excitement  among  the  miners,  who 
gathered  at  one  of  the  stores  that  evening,  and  raised 
two  hundred  dollars  to  give  to  the  woman,  besides  pay- 


FRONTIER    SKETCHES.  39 

ing  her  stage  fare  in  advance  to  the  nearest  railway 
station  where  she  could  take  a  train  for  Denver. 

The  coach  and  the  team  were  discovered  the  next 
day,  a  shapeless  wreck,  having  taken  a  clear  plunge  of 
nearly  one  hundred  feet.    Only  the  mail  was  rescued. 

Corson  and  his  gang  "  pulled  up  stakes  "  and  left  the 
region  immediately,  and  it  was  well  for  them  that  they 
did,  for  as  the  story  of  the  woman's  sufferings  became 
known,  the  irate  miners  would  surely  have  lynched 
them  if  they  had  not  taken  themselves  away. 


XV. 

THE  "MOANING  ROCK"  AT  BOGEY'S  BEND. 

A  daily  newspaper  widely  read  in  the  "West  devotes 
a  page  of  each.  Saturday's  edition,  seven  columns  or  so, 
to  collections  of  ghostly  doings,  as  related  by  local  nar- 
rators in  various  parts  of  its  own  and  surrounding" 
States.  These  tales  and  brief  accounts  are  entirely 
devoted  to  modern  and,  if  many  of  them  are  to  be 
believed,  "well-authenticated"  ghosts,  surprising  as  this 
may  seem  to  the  reader  who  has  not  the  advantage  of 
an  acquaintance  with  the  "  spook  "  columns  of  the  jour- 
nal in  question. 

There  are  stories,  indeed,  of  haunted  houses  in  south- 
western towns  where  even  the  electric  light  has  failed 
to  "  lay  "  their  nightly  and  mysterious  visitants.  This 
local  revival  in  ghostly  matters  and  beliefs  gives  good 
proof  of  the  strength  and  persistence  of  inherited  ten- 
dencies. 

In  the  backwoods  annals  of  forty  or  fifty  years  since 
we  expect  to  find  strong  traces  of  superstition,  tales  of 
weird  and  supernatural  happenings.  It  was  the  writer's 
good  fortune  lately  to  listen  to  one  of  these  old-time 
accounts  in  a  story  of  a  haunted  rock,  the  incidents  of 
which  were  told  him  by  one  who  took  part  in  the 
adventure,  and  are  well  remembered  by  old  inhabitants 
about  Bogey's  Bend. 

Bogey's  Bend  of  the  Wisconsin  river  received  its 
name  from  its  earliest  settler,  a  Canadian  Frenchman, 
who  had  married  an  Irish  wife  in  his  native  province, 
but  after  a  time  moved  westward  with  a  numerous 


PBONTIEK  SKETCHES.  II 

family  and  finally  settled  upon  a  fine  tract  of  land  in  a 
sweeping  bend  of  the  Wisconsin,  the  only  land  fit  for 
cultivating,  in  fact,  of  several  square  miles  contained 
within  the  curve,  the  remainder  being  swampy,  heavily 
timbered,  and  subject  to  over-flow.  Hence  it  was  a 
lonesome  spot,  and  other  settlers  had  been  content  with 
the  fertile  valleys  and  plateaus  of  the  bluffs  which  skirt 
the  river  valley.  A  spur  of  those  bluffs  projects  across 
the  valley  at  the  lower  end  of  Bogey's  Bend,  termi- 
nating in  a  razor-like  ridge,  sharply  descending  and 
abruptly  ending  at  the  river's  bank.  Numerous  big 
rocks,  jagged,  and  broken,  crown  the  "  hog-back "  of 
this  ridge,  and  at  the  very  extremity,  protecting  this 
bluff,  indeed,  from  the  wear  of  a  swift  current,  stands 
a  pinnacled  rock  projecting  about  seventy-five  feet 
above  the  ridge  and  nearly  twice  that  distance  from 
the  water's  edge. 

To  the  right  of  this  rugged  sentinel,  calling  the  river 
its  front,  a  densely-timbered  swamp  stretches  for 
several  miles,  while  immediately  at  its  left  the  earth  of 
the  bluff  has  caved  off,  leaving  an  extremely  high  and 
steep  bank  plainly  bearing  the  marks  of  an  old  land- 
slide. And  it  was  told  by  the  old  trappers  of  the  region 
and  also  by  an  aged  Winnebago  chief,  known  as  an 
occasional  visitor  throughout  the  surrounding  settle- 
ments, that  the  caving  off  of  this  huge  bank  some 
thirty  years  before  had  buried  a  party  of  adventurers 
who,  with  a  Winnebago  guide,  had  drawn  their  canoes 
in  there  and  camped  for  the  night  upon  the  river  shore 
beneath  the  beetling  bluff. 

Ever  since  that  time,  so  the  trappers  and  the  Indian 
maintained,  the  spirits  of  these  unfortunates  had 
hovered  about  the  big  rock-— had  made  it  their  home, 


42  HSONTIER  SKETCHES. 

in  fact ;  and  almost  any  night  of  the  year  they  might 
be  heard  moaning  and  sighing  in  a  way  that  made  the 
listeners  shiver.  When  the  wind  blew  strongly  up 
river  on  a  wet  night,  our  old  trapper  claimed,  it  was 
"  jes  beas'ly  terrible  ter  hear  thar  carryin's  on."  And 
the  old  Winnebago  said  : 

"  Heap  spirit  make  um  noise,  scare  Injun  a  heap." 

The  trappers  and  hunters,  who  in  this  locality,  as  in 
all  others  throughout  the  Northwest,  had  preceded 
the  settlers,  giving  a  nomenclature  which  has  generally 
stuck  to  prominent  landmarks  and  streams,  had  not 
failed  in  the  matter  of  this  mysterious  rock,  and  its 
name,  "  The  Moaning  Rock,"  still  clings.  The  stories 
which  they  told  of  the  supernatural  noises  and  sights 
which  were  to  be  heard  and  seen — for  some  of  them 
claimed  also  to  have  seen  strange  things  about  the 
rock — naturally  found  a  credulous  reception  among  the 
more  ignorant  of  the  settlers,  and  in  fact  for  several 
years  the  locality  of  the  Moaning  Kock  was  pretty 
generally  avoided.  Even  among  those  who  "  poohed  " 
at  the  idea  of  there  being  any  ghosts  at  all,  and  boasted 
of  having  been  to  the  rock  and  that  nothing  of  the  kind 
was  to  be  heard  or  seen,  very  few,  if  anv.  had  ever  been 
known  to  go  there  in  the  night. 

Some  there  were,  of  course,  practical  men,  busied 
with  work  and  improvement  upon  their  new  farms, 
who  very  sensibly  paid  no  attention  to  any  tales  of  the 
sort  that  infested  this  rock,  and  who  had  no  interest  in 
visiting  the  isolated  spot. 

Peter  Bogey  was  one  of  these.  He  laughed  when 
his  children  or  wife  repeated  with  awe  the  accounts 
they  had  heard  of  the  "  Moaning  Rock,"  and  would  say 
good-humoredly : 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  48 

*£  Fools  dey  ees  ticker  es  do  guss'oppers." 
But  to  bis  Irish,  wife  and  the  young  Bogeys  the  rock 
was  a  veritable  bugbear.  The  boys  could  scarce  be 
got  to-go  in  its  direction  in  search  of  the  cows  when 
the  animals  strayed  that  way.  However,  as  "  Al " 
Bogey,  the  oldest  boy,  got  well  along  in  his  teens  and 
began  to  extend  his  hunting  excursions  further  into  the 
swamps,  he  grew — like  his  father — skeptical  of  the 
ghosts  and  witches  in  which  his  mother  firmly  believed, 
and  at  length  became  so  bold  in  one  of  his  hunts  as  to 
track  a  deer  directly  up  to  the  foot  of  the  ledge  above 
the  crown  of  which  towered  the  redoubtable  rock.  He 
had  seen  it  once  before  from  a  height  of  bluff  some 
half  a  mile  distant — a  safe  point  of  view — beyond 
which  few  visitors  ventured. 

What  he  saw  now  was  a  steeple-like  rock,  triangular 
in  shape,  with  rough,  jagged  edges  and  sharp  projec- 
tions, and  growing  beside  it  in  a  sheltering  fashion  a 
huge  whiteoak-tree,  some  of  the  largest  limbs  of  which 
had  been  turned  aside  in  their  growth  by  its  nearness. 
Al  could  not  but  feel  that  it  was  a  bold  thing  to  stand 
there  surveying  the-rock,  and  felt  not  a  little  uneasy, 
notwithstanding  his  lately-aroused  skepticism.  He 
lingered  for  some  time,  and  though  he  felt  strongly  the 
influence  of  the  old  tales  he  had  listened  to,  and  the 
weird  lonesomeness  of  the  spot,  he  neither  saw  nor 
heard  anything  of  an  alarming  nature.  Yet  he  knew 
that  night  was  the  real  time  to  settle  the  matter — at 
night,  when  the  wind  "  blew  strong  up  river."  And  as 
he  wandered  towards  home,  having  lost  jbhe  trail  of  the 
deer  upon  the  hard  dry  soil  of  the  ridge,  he  came  to 
the  determination  to  find  out  for  certain  whether  the 
story  of  strange  noises  and  sights  at  the  "  Moaning 


Hi  WBGSmSR  SKETCHES. 

Eock  "  were  true  or  note  He  knew  a  young  fellow,  Jet 
Ferris,  over  on  Bear  Creek,  whom  he  was  sure  he  could 
get  to  go  with  him. 

Jet  was  a  great  hunter,  afraid  of  nothing,  and  would 
as  gladly  be  out  all  night  as  all  day  if  tnere  were  any 
fun  or  excitement  to  be  had. 

He  said  nothing  at  home  of  his  visit  to  the  rock  or 
of  his  plan,  not  wishing  to  arouse  the  fears  and  oppo- 
sition of  his  mother,  who  believed  in  real  ghosts  and 
wizards,  and  that  only  evil  could  befall  those  who  tried 
to  pry  into  their  affairs. 

It  was  September,  and  Al  had  not  long  to  wait  for  a 
wet,  drizzly  day  which  freed  him  from  work  and  also 
promised  the  right  sort  of  a  night  for  his  adventure, 
the  wind  blowing  "  up  river,"  or  nearly  so.  As  soon 
as  his  morning  chores  were  done  he  took  down  his 
father's  rifle  and  set  out  for  the  home  of  Jet,  on  Bear 
Creek,  four  miles  distant.  Upon  reaching  young  Fer- 
ris's  home  he  was  told  that  "  Jet  hed  went  up  t'  the 
Birch  Bluffs  t'  shoot  pa'tridges,"  and  was  asked  to 
come  in,  "  set  by  the  fire  an'  dry  yer  clo's." 

But  he  declined  the  invitation,  saying: 

"  Wet  clothes  ain't  nothin'." 

And,  well  knowing  that  the  game  Jet  was  hunting 
would  be  found  that  day  upon  the  sheltered  side  of  the 
bluffs,  he  set  out  after  the  hunter  again,  and,  after  a 
two  hours'  tramp,  succeeded  in  finding  him. 

Jet,  after  his  fashion,  gave  Al  a  boisterous  greeting, 
and  then  readily  agreed  to  his  proposal  to  spend  the 
night,  or  a  part  of  it,  at  the  Moaning  Eock. 

"  I  ben  awantin'  ter  dew  it, "  said  Jet,  "  fer  a  long 
time,  but  I  didn't  know  of  nobody  as  I  thought  'd 
wanter  go  long  'th  me  V  I  couldn't  scrouge  myself 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  45 

clean  up  ter  the  p'int  of  goin'  alone ;  but  along  of  you 
I  ain't  afeared. " 

They  spent  a  large  part  of  the  day  in  hunting, 
returning  to  Jet's  home  with  back-loads  of  pheasants 
and  squirrels.  Then,  after  an  early  supper,  or  rather, 
a  late  dinner,  they  started  for  the  Moaning  Rock— a 
trip  of  four  miles  or  more  along  the  tops  of  the  Bear 
Creek  Bluffs. 

It  was  yet  broad  daylight  when  they  reached  the 
rock.  They  went  boldly  up  to  it,  walking  along  the 
base  and  gazing  up  at  the  ragged  sides  and  pinnacled 
tops. 

"No  spooks  up  thar  es  I  c'n  see,"  laughed  Jet. 
And  then,  as  it  still  lacked  some  time  of  growing  dark, 
he  proposed  that  they  should  go  down  into  the  swamp 
with  the  dog  and  "  see  'f  he  can't  stir  out  a  coon  er  a 
wild  cat. " 

To  this  plan  Al  eagerly  agreed.  Having  a  lantern 
with  them  to  light  their  way  home  they  set  it  down  at 
the  base  of  the  big  oak  to  await  their  return.  , 

After  a  half  hour's  unsuccessful  beating  about  in  the 
nearer  parts  of  the  big  timber  swamp  it  began  to  grow 
dusk,  and  they  turned  back  for  their  night's  vigil. 
The  wind,  instead  of  "  going  down  with  the  sun, "  had 
risen  considerably,  and  was  blowing  stiffly  among  the 
tree-tops  as  they  emerged  upon  the  river  bank  at  the 
foot  of  the  big  rock.  There  was  a  fine  rain  falling  also, 
and  they  started  at  once  to  pass  around  the  base  of  the 
rock  and  climb  the  ridge  to  the  shelter  of  the  big  oak 
which  branched  out  partially  on  the  leeward  side  of  its 
neighbor.  They  had  not  ascended  one-third  of  the 
way  when  a  strange,  weird  sound  broke  out  above 


fe$  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

their  heads— a  long-drawn  wail  that   wound   up  in 

almost  a  shriek. 

Al  Bogey,  who  is  now  a  man  considerably  past  mid- 
dle age,  says  though  he  fought  three  years  in  the  war 
he  can  remember  no  moment  of  his  life  of  such  terrible 
fright  and  suspense  as  the  one  in  which  he  first  listened 
to  this  wail  from  the  Moaning  Rock.  He  cowered 
down  to  the  very  ground,  expecting  instantly  some 
awful  vision  to  present  itself.  But  Jet  stood  boldly 
up  and  listened  intently  while  yet  another  mournful 
wail  broke  forth  and  quavered,  at  first  low  and  plain- 
tively, then  increased  to  a  shrill  whistle,  then  died 
away  only  to  be  followed  by  others,  sounding  some- 
times singly,  sometimes  a  number  in  unison. 

"  Nothin'  in  the  worP  but  the  wind  up  'mong  them 
snags  V  jags  of  rock,"  he  said  presently,  and  in  a 
triumphant,  conclusive  tone  that  brought  Al  to  his  feet 
with  a  heart  that  soon  began  to  beat  naturally  with 
the  sudden  conviction  that  Jet  was  right.  He,  too, 
now  that  his  "  right  mind  "  had  returned,  could  recog- 
nize the  old  familiar  whistle  ot  the  wind,  as  it  had 
sounded  from  his  baby  days  around  the  chimneys  and 
the  roofs  of  the  log  houses  in  which  he  had  lived. 

He  was  breathing  easy  again  when  suddenly  an 
entirely  different  and  more  appalling  sound  jarred 
upon  his  ears,  and  once  more  sent  a  chill  creeping  over 
him. 

C-r-r-a-ai-Jc-k  ! 

It  was  a  harsh,  discordant  scream,  such -as  might 
have  issued  from  the  mouth  of  the  ugliest  wizard  of 
all  his  mother's  category. 

"  Mercy,  Jet !  he  exclaimed ;  "  what's  that  ? " 

"Hub!"  grunted  the  stolid  fellow,   "&  feller  that 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  k'l 

runs  in  the  woods  oughter  know  that  sound ;  it's  two 
o'  them  big  boughs  up  thar  that's  growed  crosswise  a 
grittin'  agin  each  other.  I've  hearn  'em  do  that  a 
hundred  times  in  the  woods.  Now  them  sounds,"  he 
went  on,  "  is  jest  the  long  'n'  short  o'  the  hull  o'  this 
here  sperrit  business;  an'  es  fer  seein'  things,  why  eny 
body  es  is  too  skeered  ter  know  them  sounds  could  see 
a  'most  any  thing  they  'magined,  I  sh'd  jedge." 

This  made  Al-  feel  rather  small,  but  he  owned  his 
cowardly  feeling. 

"I  was  skeered,  Jet,  that's  a  fact,  V  if  I'd  ben 
alone,"  he  said,  "  thet  rock  would  'a'  ben  howlin'  with 
sperrits." 

"  O,  wal,"  replied  Jet,  with  intent  to  comfort,  "you 
haint  traipsed  the  woods  es  many  years  es  I  have,  else 
ye'd  know'd  them  sounds.    Thar  she  goes  agin' — " 

8-c-r-r-e-a-h  ! 

"Now  let's  go  up,"  he  concluded,  "an  git  our 
lantern  'n'  strike  fer  home." 

The  wind  whistled  and  screamed  overhead  as  they 
climbed,  and  when  they  reached  the  trunk  of  the  old 
oak  a  Tiew  wonder  greeted  them — the  lantern  was 
gone ! 

Although  fast  growing  dark  it  was  still  light  enough 
to  have  discovered  the  lantern  had  it  been  near  the 
spot  where  they  had  left  it ;  it  was  a  bright  new  one, 
and  its  polished  tin  base  could  almost  have  been  seen 
in  utter  darkness.  In  vain  they  lit  matches,  and 
finally  built  a  fire  from  dry  sticks  gathered  within 
shelter  of  the  rock;  their  luminary  was  gone,  and  no 
trace  of  it  could  be  found.  The  wind  could  not  reach 
the  spot  where  it  had  sat,  and  the  dog  had  been  at 
their  heels  coming  up  from  the  hunt ;  therefore  some- 


fee  FKOSTHEE  SKETCHES. 

thing  or  somebody  unknown  to  them  had  taken  it 
away. 

"  Wall,"  said  Jet,  scratching  his  puzzled  head,  "  this 
here  comes  the  neardest  to  speritool  perceedin's  of 
anything  I've  hearn  on  'bout  this  rock." 

It  was  about  this  time  that  the  dog  began  to  show 
signs  of  excitement.  Suddenly  putting  his  nose  to  the 
ground  he  ran  out  to  the  river  bank  along  the  top  of 
the  land-slide  and  began  barking  furiously. 

The  boys  piled  more  sticks  on  the  fire  and  then  fol- 
lowed the  animal. 

"  That's  whar  our  lantern's  gone,  "  declared  Jet. 
"Don't  know  what's  got  it,  but  that  dawg's  follered  it 
fur's  he  could,  sure.  Thar's  somethin'  round  here  that 
ain't  no  sperrit,  fer  that  dawg  don't  foller  nothin'  that 
don't  make  tracks  ner  leave  no  smell." 

They  cautiously  approached  the  edge  of  the  bank 
where  the  animal  was  jumping  about  in  noisy  excite- 
ment, and  peered  over  into  a  black  depth  which  the  on- 
coming night  had  made  murky  and  forbidding  enough. 

Nothing  was  to  be  seen  or  heard ;  the  wind's  roar 
drowned  even  the  swash  of  the  current  which  ran 
below. 

"  Thar's  somethin'  down  thar  somewhar,"  declared 
Jet,  positively. 

"  Shucks ! "  said  Al.  "  How  could  any  thin'  be  down 
thar  on  the  sides  of  that  slide  ? " 

Just  then,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  question,  there 
flashed  out  below  a  little  to  their  left  a  thin  stream  of 
light.  It  came  from  the  bank  and  projected  in  a  funnel- 
shaped  glare,  like  the  light  from  a  bull's  eye  lantern. 

They  were  startled,  and  yet  the  streak  of  light  shone 
out  into  the  blackness  with  such  a  natural,  cheerful 


FKOTTIEB   SEETCHSfe.  ,U 

gleam  that  there  could  be  no  doubt  of  a  genuine  flame 
behind  it,  queer  as  the  situation  seemed. 

"What'd  I  tell  ye?"  exclaimed  Jet,  triumphantly . 
46  Some  feller  down  there  with  our  lantern." 

"  Fishin'  mebbe,"  suggested  Al.  "  Must  be  farther 
down  than  it  looks." 

"  No,"  said  Jet,  "  it's  comin'  right  out  o  'the  centre  o' 
the  bank  not  more'n  forty  feet  below.  Somebody's  in 
a  cave  or  a  hole  down  thar,  'n'  if  'tw'a'nt  fer  this 
howlin'  wind  I  sh'd  expect  'em  ter  hear  the  racket  up 
here  V  be  pokin'  ther  heads  out." 

The  dog  had  suddenly  left  them  again,  and  a  moment 
later  they  heard  him  barking  directly  below  and  nearly 
beneath  them. 

'Thar — see !  "  exclaimed  Jet.  "  Thar's  a  path  goes 
down  ;  it's  out  here  by  the  rock."  And  he  ran  to  the 
fire,  and,  gathering  the  unburnt  ends  of  several  flaming 
brands,  in  his  hands,  arranged  a  torch. 

"  Now,  come  on,"  he  said  ;  "  let's  find  the  path." 

"Ain't  you  feared  ?  "  asked  Al. 

" Shucks,  no,"  replied  the  plucky  fellow;  "it's  only 
some  ol'  trapper  that's  got  a  good  thing  long  of  these 
banks  which  nobody  won't  come  near,  'n'  the  cute  ol 
feller's  dug  a  hole  down  thar  so's  ter  keep  hid  up." 

This  theory  re-assured  Al,  and,  hiding  their  guns  under 
a  dry  ledge,  they  passed  around  the  rock  to  the  edge  of 
the  bank.  After  a  moment's  careful  seareh  the  path  was 
found  leading  from  between  two  boulders  obliquely 
along  the  steep  incline.  By  the  light  of  Jet's  flaming 
sticks  they  could  trace  the  narrow  roadway  several 
yards  in  advance.  It  had  plainly  been  cut  into  the  bank 
by  the  aid  of  tools,  but  it  proved  a  ticklish  affair,  barely 
sufficient  for  safe  passage  in  daylight,  and  after  descend- 


50  FRONTIER    SKETCHES. 

ing  carefully  the  slippery  way  for  a  dozen  steps  or  so, 
Jet  halted. 

"  'Taint  safe,"  he  announced  to  Al,  who  was  cau- 
tiously following,  while  he  held  the  torch  above  his 
head.  "  'Taint  safe  to  go  no  furder,  slippery  'n'  narrer, 
'n'  what's  more,  the  rain's  goinl.  to  put  this  light  out 
d'rectly." 

All  this  time  the  dog  had  barked  energetically 
ahead,  but  as  Jet  finished  there  came  the  booming 
reports  of  a  gun,  followed  by  a  sharp  canine  yelp  either 
of  fright  or  pain.  It  was  evident  almost  instantly  that 
the  animal  was  more  frightened  than  hurt,  for,  peering 
ahead  under  his  waning  light,  Jet  saw  the  dog  bounding 
up  the  path.  Instinctively  the  torch-bearer  threw  him- 
self back  against  the  bank,  and  the  dog  sprang  past, 
brushing  him  smartly,  but  not  pushing  him  off  his  feet. 
Al  was  not  so  lucky ;  the  brute,  both  frightened  and 
hurt,  as  it  afterwards  proved,  struck  him  squarely  upon 
the  legs,  knocking  his  feet  from  under  him. 

Instantly  the  luckless  lad  was  sent  sliding  down  the 
slippery  incline  at  a  rate  of  speed  which  took  his 
breath  and  left  him  no  time  for  thought  or  action. 
Luckily  he  started  feet  first,  and  instinct,  of  course, 
made  him  clutch  the  earth  of  the  bank  with  either 
hand,  thus  keeping  his  body  in  the  same  position ;  at 
least  he  supposes  so,  for  he  had  sense  enough  to  feel 
that  he  struck  the  water  feet  first,  and,  after  a  strang- 
ling splash,  was  surprised  to  find  himself  standing  up  to 
his  neck  in  the  current  and  up  to  his  knees  in  mud.  It 
was  the  season  of  low  water,  and  the  stronger  portion 
of  the  current  turned  further  out  by  the  rock  above 
had  allowed  the  water  to  fall  away  from  the  bank  and 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES  51 

intervening  bed  to  fill  partially  with  the  earth  washed 
down  from  above. 

As  soon  as  he  got  his  breath  Al  began  the  struggle  to 
free  his  feet,  which  it  took  some  time  to  do,  as  the  veloc- 
ity of  his  "  slide "  had  driven  his  legs  into  the  sticky 
material  with  no  little  force.  He  succeeded  at  length, 
and  then  setting  to  work  as  best  he  could  in  such  a 
depth  of  water  and  such  darkness,  got  off  his  boots  and 
most  of  his  clothes  and  made  a  bundle  of  them.  He 
was  a  good  swimmer,  and  as  the  water  was  not  very 
cold  he  struck  boldly  out  into  the  current  and  swam 
down  stream,  using  one  hand  and  his  legs,  while  with 
the  other  hand  he  clung  to  his  clothes. 

He  had  swum  but  a  few  minutes  when  he  heard  Jet's 
voice  hallooing  at  him  from  the  bank  above.  He  gave 
an  answering  shout,  to  which  Jet  replied  with  a  joyful 
whoop. 

"  Down  a  leetle  furder  here,  Al,"  he  shouted ;  "  here's 
a  good  place  ter  climb  the  bank.  And  Al  having 
rounded  the  bluff  came  in  shore  by  the  aid  of  Jet's  light 
and  was  soon  standing  dripping  upon  the  bank,  while 
Jet,  holding  a  dimly-burning  brand,  danced  around  him 
in  a  furor  of  delight. 

"  Hurray ! "  he  said,  "  I  thought  ye  was  a  goner. 
Mighty  lucky  there  wasn't  no  stones  ner  stumps  ter  hit 
agin.  Now  git  on  yer  clo'es,  fer  we  must  be  gettin'  out 
o'  this.  I  brung  down  the  guns,  hopin'  ye'd  turn  up  all 
right,  fer  'twont  be  safe  fer  us  ter  poke  round  up  thar 
any  more.  They's  a  den  o'  thieves,  er  wuss,  up  thar  in 
that  bank." 

After  u  weary,  stumbling  tramp  over  the  bluffs,  they 
succeeded  in  reaching  Ferris's  house  in  the  valley.  The 
family  got  up  to  listen  to  their  story,  and  the  dog  was 


52  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

called  in  and  carefully  examined.  Two  slight  buckshot 
wounds  in  the  jaw  and  shoulder  attested  the  truth  of 
the  boys'  narrative. 

By  noon  the  next  day  nearly  ail  the  men  and  boys  of 
Bear  Creek  had  assembled,  each  armed  with  some  sort 
of  weapon,  at  the  Moaning  Rock. 

But  the  inhabitants  of  the  bank  had  flown ;  their  den 
a  roomy  excavation  with  a  small  entrance  just  large 
enough  to  crawl  through  handily,  was  found  empty,  and 
the  hay  or  grass  which  they  had  used  for  beds  had  been 
scattered  over  the  floor  of  the  cavern  and  burned,  thus 
leaving  no  scrap  of  anything  by  which  their  business  or 
their  number  might  be  guessed..  There  were  two 
paths,  one  leading  to  the  ridge  above,  and  the  other  to 
the  water  below,  thus  giving  two  avenues  of  escape,  as 
they  had,  no  doubt,  a  boat  in  hiding  upon  the  river. 

The  bank  proved  not  to  be  so  steep  as  it  appeared  in 
looking  from  the  top  or  bottom.  The  cave-dwellers, 
whoever  they  were,  were  evidently  aware  of  the  super- 
stition investing  the  Moaning  Eock,  and  had  taken 
advantage  of  the  protection  it  offered  in  seeking  a  base 
for  some  secret  and,  no  doubt,  illegal  traffic. 

The  settlers  at  once  concluded  that  they  were  coun- 
terfeiters, and  probably  they  were  right  in  so  thinking, 
for  the  country  at  that  time  was  exceedingly  pestered 
with  well-counterfeited  bills  of  the  State,  or  "  Wild-cat " 
banks,  as  they  came  to  be  called  later. 

As  the  rain  had  obliterated  all  traces  of  flight,  how- 
ever, no  attempt  was  made  to  follow  this  band,  for  it 
was  evident  from  the  size  of  the  cave  and  the  work  that 
had  been  done  that  there  must  have  been  a  number  of 
them.  That  they  had  thought  themselves  discovered 
and,  were  prepared  for  fight,  even  before  Jet  and  Al  had 


JlfJBDNTXER  SKETCHES.  ««, 

returned  from  the  swamp,  seemed  evident  from  the 
taking  of  the  lantern  and  their  warning  shot  at  the  dog. 

The  cave  remained  a  neighborhood  curiosity  for  some 
years,  and  was  inhabited  for  a  time  by  wolves,  but  at 
length  the  wash  of  heavy  rains  wore  away  and  destroyed 
all  trace  of  both  path  and  cavern. 

The  episode  above  related,  however,  broke  the  spell 
which  had  so  long  hung  around  the  Moaning  Rock,  and 
Jet  and  Al  got,  as  they  deserved,  no  little  credit  for 
their  plucky  adventure. 


MORTIMER  HALLECK'S  .ADVENTURE. 

Among-   the    many  adventurous   incidents   of  qui  • 
frontier  life  in  northwest  Iowa,  fifteen  years  ago,  I 
recall  one  that  befell  a  boy  neighbor,  Mortimer  Hal- 
leck,  in  which  his  recklessness  came  very  near  causing 
his  death. 

There  were  five  of  us  boys,  who  formed  a  little  com- 
pany of  tried  friends  and  pledged  comrades.  We 
hunted,  trapped,  boated,  went  skating  and  swimming 
together,  and,  when  the  first  frame  school-house  was 
built,  we  occupied  the  two  back  seats,  on  the  boys'  side. 

In  our  hunts  after  deer,  wolves,  badgers,  and  feath- 
ered game,  we  found  an  exhilaration  such  as  I  never 
again  expect  to  experience  in  the  tamer  pursuits 
of  life.  We  even  felt  an  exultant  joy  in  the  fierce 
buffeting  of  the  winter  blizzards  which  annually 
descended  upon  us  from  the  plateaus  of  Dakota. 

During  the  regular  season  of  bird  migration,  the 
resounding  golunk,  golunk,  of  the  wild  goose,  the 
shrill  Mil-la-la  of  the  swift  and  wary  brant,  the  affec- 
tionate qu-a-a-rr-k,  quack  of  the  Mallard  drake  and  his 
mate,  with  the  strange,  inimitable  cry  of  the  whooping 
crane,  combined  to  form  a  sylvan  orchestra,  the  music 
of  which  thrilled  us  with  more  pleasurable  sensations 
than  were  ever  awakened  by  the  household  organ  or 
the  town  brass  band  of  later  years. 

In  the  early  spring,  during  the  alternate  slush,  mud 
and  freeze  of  the  first  thaws,  there  always  occurred  a 

U 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES,  &$ 

short  vacation  from  school  and  work,  in  which  we 

gathered  a  harvest  of  fun,  fur  and  feathers. 
—At  this  season,  the  low,  flat  valleys  of  the  Little 
Sioux  and  the  Ocheyedan  rivers  were  covered  six  or 
eight  feet  deep  by  the  annual  overflow ;  and  torrents  of 
yellow  snow-water,  the  melting  of  tremendous  drifts, 
rushed  down  creeks  and  ravines. 

As  soon  as  these  impetuous  currents  had  gathered 
force  enough  to  upheave  the  thick  layers  of  ice  in  the 
river-beds  and  break  over  the  __banks5  out  came  beaver, 
musk-rat  and  m,ink,tlriveh  from  house  and  hole  to  take 
refuge  upon  the  masses  of  ice  and  drift  stuff  which 
lodged  in  the  thickets  of  tall  willows  that  grew  along 
the  beds  of  these  streams.  Here  they  were  obliged  to 
stay  until  the  water  subsided,  and  here  they  often  fell 
a  prey  to  the  rifle  or  shot-gun  of  the  hunter. 

We  owned  three  boats  in  common ;  and  as  the  men 
of  the  settlement  were  not  particularly  busy  during  the 
freshet  season,  we  could  easily  persuade  or  hire  them  to 
load  our  skiffs  on  their  wagons,  and  haul  us  eight  or  ten 
miles  up  the  Sioux  or  Ocheyedan,  for  half  a  day's  run 
down  home,  in  which  scarcely  the  stroke  of  an  oar  was 
necessary,  after  getting  out  into  the  main  channel. 
Floating  leisurely  down,  we  were  able  to  hunt  musk- 
rat,  geese  and  ducks,  which  were  plentiful  on  the  water 
or  on  the  banks. 

Beaver  were  scarce,  but  we  occasionally  got  one. 
A  mink  or  two,  a  couple  of  dozen  musk-rats,  and  a 
goodly  bag  of  feathered  game  were  often  the  result  of 
a  half-day's  ran  with  a  single  boat. 

Mortimer  Halleck,  who  at  this  time  lived  in  the 
fork  of  the  rivers,  and  at  a  considerable  distance  from 
the  rest  of  us,  owned  a  staunch  skiff,  which  he  had 


5G  FBOKTXER  SKETCHES. 

himself  made,  and  in  it  went  often  alone  upon  the 
rivers.  It  was  upon  one  of  these  solitary  trips  that  he 
met  with  the  adventure  mentioned. 

On  a  raw  afternoon  in  March,  his  father  had  taken 
Mortimer  and  his  boat  on  his  double  horse  wagon  six 
miles  up  stream.  At  this  point  there  was  a  great  bend 
in  the  river,  and,  by  crossing  the  neck,  the  water  dis- 
tance to  the  fork  was  lengthened  to  fifteen  miles. 
Mortimer  was  thus  set  afloat  with  his  boat,  with  a  long 
afternoon's  run  on  the  river  before  him. 

For  several  hours  the  young  hunter  allowed  his  boat 
to  drift  down  with  the  current,  then  swollen  to  an 
unusual  height.  His  eyes,  roving  on  either  hand,  were 
now  and  then  rewarded  with  the  sight  of  a  small  brown 
bunch  of  fur,  resting  on  a  bit  of  lodged  drift.  Then 
followed  a  quick  puff  of  smoke,  and  the  echoing  report 
from  the  shot-gun.  The  troubles  of  the  furry  little  chap 
were  at  an  end.  The  kinks  would  straighten  out 
of  its  small  humped  back,  and,  as  a  deft  turn  of  the 
oars  brought  the  boat  alongside,  the  hunter's  hand 
would  reach  over  the  edge,  grasp  the  long,  slim  tail, 
and  fling  the  body  of  the  sleek  little  musquash  into  the 
boat. 

Twice  during  the  afternoon  a  flock  of  geese  had 
ventured  low  down  over  the  drifting  boatman,  and 
each  time  one  of  the  flock  had  fallen  a  victim.  The 
others  had  hurried  away  in  noisy  confusion.  He  had 
hardly  expected  to  find  beaver,  yet  as  the  night  drew 
on  without  a  sight  of  one,  he  felt  a  little  disappointed. 
True,  he  had  secured  a  profitable  lot  of  game:  two 
geese,  a  mink,  and  more  than  a  dozen  muskrats. 

But  he  wanted  to  show  a  beaver  with  the  rest  of  his 
bag,  and  he  had  about  given  up  his  hopes  of  it  wHen, 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  57 

just  as  the  sun  was  setting  and  while  he  was  passing 
down  the  mid  channel  between  two  long  lines  ■  of  clus- 
tering willow  thickets,  he  espied  the  very  object  of  his 
desires  directly  ahead  and  within  easy  range. 

The  animal  was  rolled  up  in  a  rusty  brown  ball,  lying 
in  a  snug  nest  amid  the  bushy  sprouts  from  an  elm 
stub  which  projected  three  or  four  feet  above  the 
water.  The  tree  had  been  broken  off,  and  leaned  out 
from  the  summer  banks  of  the  river.  It  had  grown, 
as  elm  stumps  often  do,  a  dense  fringe  of  short,  tangled 
brush  about  the  end  of  the  trunk.  Among  these  sprouts 
the  beaver  had  fashioned  a  nest,  and  was  lying  curled 
up,  asleep  when  Mortimer,  drifting  silently  down 
within  short  range,  raised  his  gun  and  shot  at  it. 

But  the  beaver  is  a  "  hard-lived  "  animal,  and,  even 
when  shot  at  such  close  quarters,  will  quite  frequently 
flop  off  its  perch  into  the  water,  and,  clutching  with 
teeth  and  claws  into  roots  or  grass  at  the  bottom, 
remain  there.  In  that  case,  the  hunter's  ammunition 
is  simply  wasted. 

This  had  happened  more  than  once  in  Mortimer's 
experience,  and,  fearing  that  it  might  happen  again, 
for  he  saw  the  beaver  floundering  heavily  in  its  nest, 
be  brought  the  boat  about  in  great  haste,  circled  around 
the  stump,  and  jammed  the  bow  into  the  sprouts.  He 
then  dropped  the  oars,  and  sprang  forward  to  secure 
the  game. 

His  haste  was  unfortunate ;  for,  though  he  grasped 
at  the  small  limbs  quickly  enough  to  have  held  the 
boat  in  place  if  it  had  not  been  in  motion,  his  impetus 
was  so  great  that  the  unsteady  skiff  recoiled  backward 
with  a  force  that  pitched  him  over  the  prow,  upon  the 
¥ery  top  of  the  stub.    He  lurched  off  to  one  side,,  and 


$8 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 


his  feet  and  legs  splashed  into  the  water;  but  he 
escaped  a  complete  ducking  by  clenching  the  top  of  the 
trunk  with  his  left  arm,  while  with  his  right  hand  he 
grasped  (me  foot  of  the  leaver!  And  then  he  glanced 
around  for  his  boat. 

It  was  gone,  and  had  left  him  in  a  most  perilous 
situation.    The  light  skiff,  impelled  by  the  force  of  his 


Mortimer  looked  after  it  in  utter  dismay. — Page  58. 

fall  out  of  it,  had  floated  back  into  the  current,  and 
was  already  more  than  a  dozen  yards  out,  moving  down 
stream. 

Mortimer  looked  after  it  in  utter  dismay. 

It  was  now  too Jate  to  make  a  swim  for  it ;  he  could 
never  live  in  that  strong,  icy  current  long  enough  to 
roach  it. 

With  a  few  cautious  hitches  he  succeeded  in  gaining 
a  ticklish  seat  upon  the  broken  top  of  the  stump,  where 


f-KONTIES  SKETCHM.  iW 

he  maintained  himself  by  resting  his  feet  upon  two  of  the 
stoutest  sprouts.  Seated  thus,  he  could  feel  an  unsteady 
quivering  of  the  trunk,  a  trembling,  wrenching  motion, 
that  told,  but  too  plainly,  of  the  powerful  force  of  the 
flood,  and  of  the  uncertain  tenure  which  he  possessed 
on  even  this  comfortless  refuge. 

The  lad  was  now  thoroughly  alarmed,  and  surveyed 
his  surroundings  with  a  growing  fear  that  gained  not 
a  ray  of  hope  from  the  prospect.  The  situation  was 
truly  a  grave  one. 

On  all  sides  was  the  hurrying  flow  of  the  grim,  dark 
waters,  which  rushed  swirling  and  eddying  onward, 
The  current  swashed  dismally  among  the  slender, 
swaying  willows,  on  either  side ;  and  beyond  these,  he 
knew  that  there  was  at  least  three  hundred  yards  of 
swimming  depth  before  either  shore  could  be  reached. 

If  any  one  should  happen  to  pass,  he  could  not,  from 
the  land,  see  Mortimer,  on  account  of  the  willows. 
The  nearest  house  was  three  or  four  miles  distant;  and 
a  voice  could  be  heard  but  a  little  distance,  above  the 
swash  of  the  flood  and  the  rush  of  the  cold  wind. 

Mortimer's  parents  did  not  expect  him  to  return 
until  late  in  the  evening,  and  they  would  probably 
make  no  effort  to  learn  of  his  whereabouts  until  after 
midnight.  The  night,  too,  was  already  growing  very 
cold,  with  a  raw,  gusty  wind  that  soughed  drearily 
among  the  willows ;  his  bare  hands  and  wet  feet  were 
fast  becoming  chilled  and  numb. 

All  the  desolation,  helplessness  and  misery  of  the 
situation  were  forced  upon  him  by  that  keen  and 
merciless  power  of  reflection  which  so  often  attacks 
the  mind  in  moments  of  extreme  peril  or  of  sudden 
disaster. 


51  '  wEowi'im  mmww* 

He  saw  bat  toe  plainly  that  it  was  useless  to  look  £01 
rescue  before  morning,  and,  clinging  there  to  his  bleak 
and  uncertain  perch,  he  felt  that  he  would  assuredly 
chill  to  death  in  a  few  hours. 

Looking  out  into  the  gloom  of  the  coming  dusk,  with 
the  long,  black,  freezing  night  staring  him  in  the  face, 
tears  gathered  in  the  poor  fellow's  eyes,  and  a  lump  of 
choking  misery  rose  up  in  his  throat.  Yet  he  was  a 
brave  fellow,  who  had  never  been  known  to  yield  an 
inch  before  any  danger  which  must  be  met,  when  the 
balance  of  probabilities  was  adjusted  with  any  degree 
of  fairness.  In  this  case,  the  probabilities  were  all  on 
one  side,  and  that  side  was  against  him. 

"There  just  aint  any  chance  for  me  at  all,"  he 
groaned,  at  length.  "  I'm  in  a  much  worse  predica- 
ment than  the  beaver  and  muskrats ;  for  if  they  do 
get  killed,  it's  so  sudden  they  don't  know  it,  but  I've 
got  to  die  by  inches.  I've  just  got  to  sit  here  and 
freeze  a  little  at  a  time,  till  I  fall  off  and  finish  life  by 
drowning." 

A  wretched  enough  prospect !  Yet  that  was  the  fate 
which  seemed  certainly  awaiting  him.  "Wet  as  he  was, 
and  already  shivering,  with  no  chance  for  exercise, 
there  seemed  little  chance  of  surviving  the  cold,  dismal 
night. 

Sitting  in  hopeless  suffering,  he  peered  about  him 
again  and  again  in  the  gathering  darkness,  in  the  vain 
hope  of  discovering  something  .that  could  give  him  an 
atom  of  comfort.  Then,  whipping  his  numbed  hands 
about  his  shoulders  until  they  tingled,  he  attemped  to 
remove  his  soaked  and  stiffening  boots ;  but,  owing  to  his 
shaky  and  uncertain  seat,  he  was  baffled  in  this  effort 
also. 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  tfi 

Then,  with  feet  and  legs  growing  every  moment 
more  numb,  he  sat*  clinging  with  one  hand  to  the  stump, 
whipping  the  other,  shouting  at  intervals,  and  waiting 
for — he  dared  not  think  what. 

An  hour  passed;  then  another;  dumb,  dreary  despair 
had  settled  upon  his  mind.  Insensibly  he  fell  into  a 
half-frozen  stupor.  He  was  beginning  to  think,  in  a 
numb  way,  that  it  did  not  make  any  particular  differ- 
ence to  him  what  happened  now. 

An  hour  or  more  dragged  by  thus  sluggishly,  then 
a  sudden  shock,  accompanied  by  a  grinding  noise, 
threw  him  partly  off  the  stump.  Instinctively  he 
clutched  the  sprouts  with  his  chilled  fingers,  but  slid 
down,  expecting  to  sink  in  the  cold  waters. 

But  he  struck  something  solid  and  white.  It  was  a 
large  ice-cake,  which  had  come  floating  down  the  river 
and  touched  the  elm  stump.  The  jar  of  his  fall  roused 
the  boy ;  he  staggered  to  his  feet,  feeling  strange  in  his 
head,  and  with  queer  and  painful  sensations  about  the 
arms  and  shoulders. 

He  tried  to  step,'  but  at  first  it  seemed  as  if  his  feet 
must  be  frozen ;  yet,  after  stamping  about  for  a  few 
minutes,  they  began  to  lose  their  feeling  of  lumpishness 
and  to  prickle. 

He  then  sat  down  upon  the  ice,  and,  after  a  struggle, 
worked  off  his  boots,  squeezed  the  water  from  his  socks, 
and  chafed  and  pounded  his  feet  until  they  felt  alive. 
This  done,  he  got  up  and  looked  around ;  and  hope 
revived  within  him. 

The  ice-cake  was  a  large  andi  solid  one,  twenty  feet 
across  at  least ;  and,  owing  to  the  falling  of  the  river, 
it  was  floating  down  the  centre  of  the  channel    H© 


62  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

was,  at  least,  floating  toward  home;  and  there  was 
room  to  stamp  about  and  keep  from  freezing. 

Mortimer's  spirits  rose  with  the  renewed  circulation 
of  the  blood.  He  shouted,  beat  his  arms  about  his  chest, 
he  even  danced,  the  better  to  warm  himself  up  again. 

It  seemed  to  him  now  that  he  was  being  guided  by 
fate.  He  then  became  confused  in  mind — dazed,  as  it 
were.  In  odd  vagary,  as  his  ice-raft  floated  on  down 
the  river,  he  peopled  the  darkness  about  him  with 
imaginary  foes,  and  "squared  off"  at  them  pugnaci- 
ously. His  blood  warming  with  this  exercise,  he  began 
delivering  in  grandiloquent  tones  the  address  which  he 
had  declaimed  at  school,  when  a  voice  from  the  dark- 
ness near  at  hand  brought  him  back  to  his  situation. 

"  Mortimer ! " 

"  Halloo ! "  he  answered. 

"  Mortimer,  is  it  you  ?  " 

."  Is  that  you,  father  ? "  cried  the  young  castaway, 
"  have  you  got  a  boat  % " 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mr.  Halleck ;  "  but  we  have  been 
alarmed.     What  has  kept —  " 

"  Paddle  your  skiff  this  way,  father.  Here,  this  way; 
I'm  on  a  cake  of  ice. " 

"  On  a  cake  of  ice  ! "  cried  Mr.  Halleck.  "  I  knew 
you  were  in  some  trouble.  What  has  happened?  I 
borrowed  Neighbor  Wescott's  boat,  and  was  going  to 
cross  over  to  see  if  you  were  at  Morley's  with  Pete, 
when  I  heard  your  voice." 

Mortimer  was  astonished  to  find  he  had  already 
drifted  so  far. 

"  How  much  longer  could  you  have  stood  it  % "  Mr. 
Halleck  asked,  in  tones  that  trembled  a  little. 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  W 

"Not  another  half-hour,"  Mortimer  declared,  and 
probably  he  was  right. 

Next  day  he  succeeded  in  finding  his  boat,  safely 
lodged  among  some  willows ;  but  the  beaver  was  miss- 
ing, having  probably,  been  jarred  off  the  nest  on  the 
stub  by  the  ice-cake  striking  against  it. 

The  river  had  lowered  considerably,  and  Mortimer, 
while  searching  for  his  boat,  saw  numerous  ice-rafts 
moving  down  the  channel ;  yet  he  could  not  repress  a 
conviction  that  something  more  than  mere  good  fortune 
had  directed  the  ice-cake  to  touch  at  his  bleak  and 
comfortless  perch  in  the  nick  of  time  to  save  his  life. 


THE  MYSTERY  OP  THE  VALLEY. 

Among  the  earliest  settlers  on  the  Wisconsin  river 
was  Robert  Wheaton — now  one  of  the  wealthiest 
farmers  of  the  State— who,  with  his  pretty  young 
wife,  Jennie,  came  up  into  the  Winnecon  Valley  to 
make  a  home  about  the  year  1850.  There  was 
this  difference  between  the  Wheatons  and  many  others 
of  the  pioneers  here :  Robert  and  Jennie  settled  there 
t6  stay,  while  too  many  of  the  "  old  Winneconers,** 
yielding  to  temporary  discouragements,  drifted  away 
with  the  ever-moving  tide  of  Westward  migration. 

Robert,  like  all  "  old  settlers,"  greatly  delighted  to 
tell  of  the  hardships  of  those  early  times,  when  he  and 
Jennie  came  to  live  in  the  new  log-house  in  one  of  the 
Winnecon  "pockets/*  or  side  valleys  between  the 
bluffs. 

One  midsummer  evening,  just  at  twilight,  Robert  sat 
milking  his  cow  in  the  little  yard  back  of  his  ®h9&j 
when  someone  near  the  fence  surprised  him  with,-*- 

"  Good-e'en,  Meester  W'eSton !  Ha?  ye  sean  th' 
broout  baast  yit? " 

Robert  knew  the  voice,  and  looking  up,  saw  "  Big 
Jim  "  Hodgson,  as  he  was  known,  leaning  his  elbow 
upon  the  fence.  Hodgson  was  an  Englishman,  with  a 
large  family,  and  in  person  an  enormous  man  of  si* 
and  a  half  feet  in  height,  who  spoke  the  North  of  Eng- 
land dialect,  in  a  voice  as  rough  and  guttural  as  the 
rumbling   of   a   cart-wheel.    The   Winnecon  people 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  65 

among  whom  he  had  settled  had  nick-named  him  "  Big 
Jim." 

He  was  a  brave,  good-natured  man,  but  somewhat 
inclined  to  be  superstitious. 

"  Hullo,  Hodgson ! "  Eobert  exclaimed.  "  What 
brute  are  you  talking  about  ?    I  haven't  seen  any  one." 

Big  Jim  explained.  There  was  a  strong  flavor  of 
hobgoblin  belief  in  ;his  gruff,  deep  tones,  as  he  related 
how;a  strange  creature  had  been  seen  in  the  valley 
roads  and  along  the  cow-paths  during  the  past  week. 
One  of  the  Carter  girls  had  seen  it  up  on  the  "  bluff 
path,"  between  Cat  Rock  and  the  Twin  Oaks.  It 
was  a  large,  gray,  shaggy  creature,  which,  issuing  from 
the  brush,  had  followed  the  girl  as  she  drove  home  the 
cows.  She  was  naturally  much  terrified,  yet  she  dared 
not  run,  and  the  "  broout  baast  "  had  followed  her 
silently,  until  she  had  gone  past  the  Twin  Oaks,  down 
to  the  upper  end  of  Carter's  rye-patch. 

There  it  had  left  her  and  walked  off  into  the  woods, 
and  she  had  rushed  home  with  the  cows,  and  gone  to 
bed  in  a  high  fever. 

Continuing  his  account,  Big  Jim  related  how,  on  Sun- 
day evening,  the  thing  had  followed  the  Mulrony  boys 
down  through  the  gap  road. 

"  They  were  on  horse-back,"  he  said,  "  a-coomen'  doon 
on  a  spaarkin'  veesit  to  Carter's ;  and  the  brout  baast 
'ad  coom  oop  a-hint  their  'orses,  'n'  nigh  scahed  th' 
seensus  oot  oJ  urn." 

Nor  was  that  all,  for  last  evening,  just  at  dusk,  his 
own  little  girl,  May,  had  seen  it  cross  the  turnip-patch 
up  in  the  "  notch  "  on  the  side  of  the  bluff  above  the 
house.  It  Went  across  the  "patch  from  one  point  of 
timber  to  the  other  like  a  streak  of  gray  light,  seeming1 


66  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

not  to  touch  the  ground  with  its  feet,  and  "  hit  warn't 
nowt  loike  onythink  at  all  she  'ad  e'er  sean." 

"  Waat  do  Muster  Weaton  think  o'  that,  now  ? " 

The  question  had  in  its  tones  a  strong  touch  of  exul- 
tation, for  hadn't  Robert  Wheaton  always  "toorned 
up  's  noase  at  onythink  at  all  as  was  onnaateral  \ " 

Robert  laughed,  not  so  much  at  the  information,  as 
at  Hodgson's  tones.  He  soon  grew  sober  again,  how- 
ever. 

"  We  must  look  after  that  animal,  I  think,  Jim,"  he 
said.  "  ^'m  inclined  to  believe,  from  what  you  say  of 
the  beast  and  its  actions,  that  we've  got  a  panther 
sneaking  about  our  neighborhood." 

"Mought  bea,"  returned  Jim,  a  little  miffed;  "but 
I'se  un  as  b'leaves  traaps'll  no  hoald  un,  an'  bullut's'll 
no  hoort  un,"  and  he  walked  off  toward  his  home  swing- 
ing a  heavy  club  as  he  went. 

"  Evidence  in  his  hand  against  the  belief  in  his  head," 
chuckled  Robert,  who  went  in  with  his  pail  of  milk,  and 
told  Jennie  about  the  "  broout  baast." 

"  Some  stray  panther,  I  expect,"  he  said,  in  conclu- 
sion, "  or  a  big  timber-wolf,  that's  prowling  about  after 
pigs  and  chickens." 

A  week  from  the  following  Sabbath  there  was 
"  preaching  "  at  the  new  log  school-house.  Rob  and 
Jennie  attended,  and  after  the  service  their  ears  were 
filled  with  excited  questions,  and  with  remarkable 
statements  about  the  "  broot  baste,"  as  the  strange 
creature  had  already  come  to  be  called,  this  name  being 
an  American  perversion  of  Big  Jim's  North  English 
tongue. 

Every  one  wanted  to  know  whether  Robert  had  yet 
seen  the  "  thing."    Not  a  few  affirmed  that  they  had 


FRONTIER.  SKETCHES.  67 

seen  it— always  after  dark—and  it  had  each  time  fol- 
lowed silently  a  little  way,  and  then,  as  they  drew  near 
houses  or  openings,  it  had  slunk  away  into  the  woods. 
For  a  fortnight  it  had  followed  some  one  nearly  every 
night.    Even  the  itinerant  preacher  grew  interested. 

"  Must  be  a  dangerous  creature  of  some  kind,  Robert," 
he  said,  addressing  Wheaton ;  "  a  wild  animal,  of  course, 
and  you  had  better  trap  it." 

Nothing,  however,  could  convince  Big  Jim  that  the 
creature  was  not  an  uncanny  brute ;  and  old  Granny 
Bates,  who  was  born  before  the  Revolution,  declared 
her  belief  that  it  was  "  some  creatur'  bewitched." 

Robert  promised  to  try  his  hand  at  trapping  it,  and 
went  home.  In  less  than  a  week  he  had  seven  large 
double-spring  traps,  baited  and  carefully  set  at  different 
points  in  the  bluffs  where  the  strange  object  had  been 
seen. 

He  had  to  neglect  his  work  somewhat  in  order  to 
make  the  round  of  these  traps ;  and  as  they  were  not 
disturbed  during  the  whole  of  this  time,  the  affair 
proved  most  annoying  to  him.  At  last  he  grew  sceptical 
about  the  matter,  and  took  his  traps  home,  declaring 
that  he  "  wouldn't  trap  for  shadows  any  longer." 

'Somebody,"  he  said  to  Jennie,  "has  started  a 
ridiculous  story  about  the  creature,  and  now  everybody 
that  sees  a  dog  come  out  into  the  road  after  dark  imag- 
ines, it's  the  '  broot  baste.'  I've  found  a  few  fresh  wolf- 
tracks,  but  there's  no  sign  of  any  strange  animal,  that 
I  can  see." 

But  tidings  of  the  "broot  baste"  did  not  cease. 
Scarcely  a  week  passed  that  some  one  in  the  valley  or 
among  the  bluffs  did  not  have  a  fresh  story  to  relate  of 
the  oddly-behaving  creature.    It  was  often  seen  close 


68  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

to  houses,  at  night-fall,  but  generally  made  its  appear- 
ance to  women  and  children. 

As  the  creature  never  offered  to  molest  any  .one,  and 
spared  the  pigs  and  chickens,  people  ceased  to  fear  it 
and  only  wondered  what  it  could  be. 

But  Robert  remained  sceptical  as  to  its  existence* 
and  the  matter  continued  to  be  a  mystery. 

Late  that  fall,  after  the  first  snow,  which  came  early, 
there  began  to  be  heard  strange  yelps  and  cries  nearly 
every  night  among  the  hills.  These  were  most 
"  unearthly  noises,"  the  people  said  who  heard  them. 
Robert  only  laughed  at  these  reports.  "  Wolves  always 
howl  during  the  first  cold  snap,"  he  said. 

But  one  night  Jennie  and  he  were  awakened  by  what 
was,  in  very  truth,  a  most  frightful  yelping,  which  came 
from  the  bluff,  just  above  their  stable.  They  listened 
awhile;  and  Robert  was  compelled  to  admit  that  he 
"  never  had  heard  such  an  outcry  as  that  from  any  liv- 
ing creature  before." 

The  cries  seemed  to  be  half-way  between  the  quick 
velps  of  a  frightened  dog  and  the  prolonged  howl  of  a 
timber-wolf,  only  more  wild,  weird  and  mournful  than 
either  of  those  sounds. 

Robert  took  his  gun  and  went  out ;  but  the  howling 
stopped  immediately,  and  it  was  so  dark  that  he  could 
see  nothing. 

The  next  night  the  creature  came  and  howled  in  the 
same  place,  and  earlier  in  the  evening,  but  it  became 
quiet  the  moment  Robert  stepped  outside  the  house. 
Wheaton's  curiosity  was  fairly  aroused. 

He  tried  to  find  its  tracks  the  next  morning ;  but  the 
snow  had  now  nearly  all  melted  and  the  ground  was 
frozen  again.    He  said  nothing  to  his  neighbors,  but 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  69 

determined  to  outwit  and  kill  the  beast,  in  some  way. 
But  though  he  again  set  his  traps  and  baited  them 
invitingly  with  fresh  meat,  night  after  night  passed 
and  the  howling  increased,  yet  the  traps  remained 
empty. 

Then  he  tried  hiding  out  in  the  brush,  lying  in  wait 
with  his  gun,  but  the  animal  did  not  appear,  and  that 
stratagem  failed. 

But  one  night,  early  in  December,  the  mystery  was 
explained  in  the  most  unexpected  manner.  "  Young 
John,"  a  Winnebago  trapper,  solved  it  for  them. 

Young  John,  as  he  was  called  by  the  white  settlers, 
was  an  Indian  who,  for  some  offense,  was  under  the 
ban  of  his  tribe,  and  who  subsisted  by  trapping  and 
hunting  along  the  Wisconsin. 

He  could  speak  broken  English,  and  he  evinced  a 
liking  for  Robert  Wheaton,  who  had  taught  him  many 
useful  things.  Hence  he  often  came  to  Robert's  place 
and  slept  on  the  house-floor  at  night.  Generally  he  ate 
supper  with  Robert  and  Jennie,  but  he  always  left 
before  the  latter  awoke  in  the  morning. 

One  evening,  about  three  weeks  after  they  had  been 
so  disturbed  by  the  howlings  of  the  "  broot  baste," 
Young  John  came  to  the  house,  and,  as  usual,  took 
supper  with  them,  haying  brought  his  blanket,  pre- 
pared to  sleep  on  the  floor. 

After  supper,  when  Robert  had  finished  his  "chores," 
he  sat  by  the  fire  with  Young  John,  as  they  had  been 
in  the  habit  of  doing,  telling  stories,  when  on  a  sudden 
the  "broot  baste"  set, up  a  series  of  its  wild,  mournful 
cries,  in  the  same  place  on  the  bluff  above  the  stable. 

They  had  not  heard  it  there  for  several  nights;  and 


70  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

Robert  had  not  yet  mentioned  the  creature's  doings  to 
Young  John. 

On  hearing  the  sounds,  the  Indian  started  and  lis- 
tened for  a  moment  most  intently,  while  Robert  and 
Jennie  exchanged  meaning  glances.  But  Young  John's 
next  move  surprised  them ;  for  after  listening  for  a 
moment  or  two,  the  Indian  gave  a  most  expressive  gut- 
tural grunt  of  mixed  astonishment  and  satisfaction, 
then  abruptly  strode  to  the  door,  threw  it  open,  and 
placing  two  fingers  between  his  lips,  blew  a  shrill,  ear- 
piercing  whistle. 

The  howlings  stopped. 

He  repeated  the  whistle,  then  stalked  out  into  the 
darkness.  Robert  and  Jennie  followed  him  to  the 
door,  and  peered  out  curiously. 

It  was  light  enough  for  them  to  see  the  Indian,  as 
he  stopped  near  the  corner  of  the  stable ;  and  then 
they  saw  a  strange,  shadowy  creature  come  bounding 
down  the  hill  and  throw  itself  on  the  ground,  with  piti- 
ful whines,  at  Young  John's  feet. 

He  stooped  over  and  seemed  to  be  petting  it,  and 
talking  to  it  in  the  "Winnebago  tongue,  for  a  few  sec- 
onds. Then  he  came  back  to  the  house ;  and  the  crea- 
ture followed  whining  and  leaping  at  his  heels,  until  he 
had  nearly  reached  the  door,  when  it  slunk  quickly 
away  out  of  sight  again. 

Robert  and  his  wife  were  quite  prepared  for  Young 
John's  announcement,  as  he  came  up  to  the  door. 

"Me  dog,"  he  said.  {t  Me  lose  um  las'  spling  clossin' 
liver.     Him  heap  'fraid  white  man's." 

He  made  no  further  comment,  and  his  hearers  said 
nothing.  They  remembered  perfectly  well  the  shy, 
large,  gaunt,  grizzled  wolf-dog  which  had  always  been 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES,  71 

with  him,  and  had  always  refused  to  come  near  the 
house,  on  his  previous  visits. 

Jennie  at  once  offered  the  Indian  some  victuals,  to 
feed  the  animal ,  but  Young  John  said  :  "  No,  him  eat 
plenty  labbit." 

The  Wheatons  had  a  quiet  laugh  over  the  solution 
of  the  strange  affair.  Next  morning  the  Indian  and 
his  dog  had  disappeared. 

The  "broot  baste"  and  its  antics  were  from  that 
time  forth  things  of  the  past;  and  the  neighbors 
enjoyed  the  explanation  as  much  as  did  Eobert  and 
Jennie. 


mil 

3«f!  s.rjf  ,-jv  j 


VII. 

FOLLOWED. 

The  most  desperate  and  lawless  men  to  be  found  in 
the  West — I  speak  from  twenty  years'  experience  on 
the  plains — are  the  gamblers,  confidence  men  and 
robbers  who  follow  the  "end  of  track"  when  a  rail- 
way is  pushing  through  new  and  unsettled  territory. 

At  every  side-track  a  new  town  springs  into  exist- 
ence, so  suddenly  as  to  suggest  the  Western  expression 
"  dropped  there  by  a  cyclone."  At  each  of  these  new 
communities  the  first-comers  arey  usually  men  of  the 
kind  I  have  mentioned. 

Along  the  road-bed,  wherever  a  siding  is  to  be  laid, 
a  dozen  or  more  big  tents,  respectively  labeled 
"  Saloon,"  "  Dance  House,"  sometimes  very  appropri- 
ately, "Satan's  Hole"  or  the  "Devil's  Den,"  are 
always  found  set  up  in  advance  of  the  arrival  of  the 
track-layers. 

A  certain  harvest  awaits  the  owners  of  these  grog- 
geries,  as  the  "railroader,"  of  a  certain  class,  takes 
his  "time"  from  his  foreman  at  frequent  intervals,  in 
order  that  he  may  cash  his  "time  check"  at  the 
nearest  saloon  and  gambling-place. 

He  quickly  squanders  the  proceeds  of  his  check  in 
drink  and  play,  or  is  robbed  of  them,  lies  about  in  a 
stupid  condition  for  a  day  or  two,  and  then  goes  to 
work  again,  penniless. 

Such  a  person  accepts  all  the  evils  of  this  mode  of 
life  with  a  philosophy  that  would  be  commendable  if 
Lhown  under  adversity  of  a  different  sort.     A  shirt, 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  73 

pantaloons,  shoes,  and  a  slouch  hat  usually  comprise 
the  whole  of  his  possessions,  and  so  long  as  he  can 
get  the  means  to  satisfy  a  periodic  appetite  for 
drunken  excitement,  he  seems  to  be  contented  with 
his  lot. 

This  description  of  a  large  class  of  railroad  laborers, 
it  should  be  distinctly  noted,  does  not  apply  to  the 
many  sober,  steady  fellows  who  save  the  large  wages 
they  get,  and  often  settle  and  become  prosperous 
citizens  in  the  country  they  have  helped  to  open  to 
civilization. 

It  is  upon  the  earnings  of  floating,  dissolute  wage- 
workers  of  the  track  and  grade  that  the  gambler, 
whisky  seller  and  assassin  thrive,  and,  to  secure  their 
plunder,  they  follow  the  progress  of  a  new  railway  like 
vultures  in  search  of  prey.    , 

The  day-laborer  upon  these  pioneer  roads  is  not  the 
only  victim  of  the  robber  and  sharper.  It  is  unsafe  for 
any  man  who  visits  one  of  their  mushroom  towns  to 
let  the  fact  be  known  that  he  has  a  considerable  sum 
of  money  in  his  possession. 

Yet  men  who  know  the  nature  of  the  dangers  about 
them  sometimes  neglect  to  take  proper  precaution  to 
insure  the  safety  of  money  in  their  charge,  and  thus 
the  writer  allowed  himself  to  be  caught,  two  years 
ago,  in  a  "  snap  "  that  came  near  ending  his  career,  and 
that  taught  him  a  lesson  in  caution  which  he  hopes 
will  never  again  be  needed,  at  least  by  him. 

I  was  acting  as  paymaster  and  chief  commissary 
clerk  for  a  firm  of  grade  contractors  upon  the  North- 
western road,  which  was  then  pushing  through  north- 
ern Nebraska  into  the  adjacent  territory  of  Wyoming. 

We  were  doing  some  heavy  grading  and  rock  work, 


74  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

and  with  a  large  force  were  pushing  the  work  day  and 
night  in  order  to  get  out  of  the  way  of  the  track, 
which  had  then  advanced  to  a  point  within  a  day's  ride 
of  us. 

We  had  let  pay-day  slip  by  without  paying  the  men, 
and  hoped  to  satisfy  them  by  the  issue  of  time-checks 
until  the  track  should  overtake  us,  and  our  money 
could  come  to  us  with  little  risk  on  the  construction 
train.  But,  three  or  four  days  after  "  paying-off  "  time, 
some  of  the  men  began  to  grow  suspicious  and  to 
grumble,  and  threatened  to  quit  work  until  their  checks 
were  cashed.  They  were  afraid  we  might  somehow 
slip  up  on  them  and  they  wouldn't  get  their  money. 

As  we  were  in  desperate  need  of  every  available 
hand,  it  was  necessary  that  the  men  should  be  satisfied. 
So  it  was  determined  that  I  should  go  to  Chadron,  our 
supply  base  and  banking  point,  and  bring  up  enough 
money  to  pay  the  men  their  last  month's  wages,  which 
amounted  to  about  four  thousand  dollars. 

I  decided  to  go  alone.  I  set  out  that  night  on 
horseback,  and  I  reached  the  "  end  of  track  "  at  Craw- 
ford siding  the  next  morning  in  time  to  leave  my  horse 
at  a  neighboring  ranch  corral  and  get  aboard  a  supply 
train  which  had  just  unloaded  and  was  now  going 
back. 

At  Chadron  the  supply  store  of  the  main  contractor, 
a  huge,  roughly  built  shed,  stood  at  a  side  track  about 
forty  rods  from  the  main  street  of  the  town.  Here  I 
was  accustomed  to  order  supplies  and  get  drafts  for 
money  from  the  book-keeper  from  time  to  time. 

That  morning,  after  finishing  my  business  with  the 

supply  department,  I  went  to  the  book-keeper  to  pro- 

a  draft.     A.  crowd  of  railroad  laborers  were  wait- 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  75 

ing  before  his  window  to  get  their  time-checks  cashed, 
or  secure  passes  to  go  up  or  down  the  road.  I  noticed 
that  two  of  these  men  were  better  dressed  than  the 
others,  but  thought  nothing  of  the  circumstance. 

I  awaited  my  turn  at  the  window,  and  handed  the 
book-keeper  a  slip  of  paper  on  which  was  written, 
"  Four  thousand  three  hundred  and  forty-seven  dol- 
lars and  fifty  cents,  Pay  Roll — Rodney  and  Curtis." 
He  made  me  a  draft  for  the  amount  named,  folded  it 
carelessly,  thrust  it  through  the  window,  and  took  the 
receipt  which  I  had  just  written,  and  then  turned  to 
the  next  man. 

As  I  left  the  store  I  passed  the  two  men  whom  I 
had  noticed  at  the  window,  and  it  struck  me,  upon  a 
more  attentive  view,  that  they  were  rather  sharpers 
than  workingmen,  although  I  had  seen  them  cash  two 
time-checks  and  get  passes  for  some  point  up  the  road. 
The  construction  train  did  not  leave  until  three  o'clock 
that  afternoon,  and  I  lounged  upon  the  shady  stoop  of 
the  Chadron  House  watching  the  passers-by  and  chat- 
ting with  the  landlord,  who  was  an  old  acquaintance 
of  mine  when  I  lived  in  the  East.  I  had  a  pleasant 
dinner  with  him,  and  after  the  meal  was  finished,  I 
walked  across  the  square  to  Lake  &  Haley's  bank, 
at  the  corner  of  the  two  principal  streets  of  the  town, 
where  I  cashed  the  draft. 

The  bills  which  I  received  I  stuffed  into  various  side 
pockets  of  my  clothes,  and  stowed  a  sack  of  silver 
change  into  a  small  leather  "  grip  "  which  I  carried  in 
my  hand. 

I  heard  a  locomotive  whistle  and,  turning,  walked 
quickly  out  of  the  bank.  As  I  reached  the  sidewalk 
I  was  startled  to  see  the  two  men  who  had  before 


76  FBONTIER   SKETCHES 

attracted  my  notice  step  rather  hastily  away  from  the 
sidewalk  in  front  of  the  bank  windows  and  walk  across 
the  street. 

I  was  satisfied  that  they  had  watched  me  as  I  cashed 
my  draft.  My  suspicions  were  thoroughly  aroused  by 
this  circumstance,  and  when,  an  hour  later,  I  stepped 
into  the  caboose  of  the  construction  train,  and  discov- 
ered the  men  lounging  upon  two  cracker  barrels  smok- 
ing their  pipes,  it  did  not  need  their  evident  avoidance 
of  the  direct  stare  I  gave  them,  the  moment  I  entered, 
to  convince  me  that  they  were  after  me. 

I  had  heartily  berated  myself  for  not  having  exer- 
cised greater  caution  while  at  Chadron.  I  should  have 
waited  until  I  could  see  the  book-keeper  alone  before 
I  obtained  my  check,  and  should  have  had  my  cash 
made  up  by  the  clerk  at  the  bank,  and  brought  to  my 
room  at  the  hotel,  as  might  easily  have  been  done. 
But  it  is  easy  enough,  after  you  have  done  a  foolish 
thing,  to  think  how  much  better  you  might  have  man- 
aged it. 

While  Tsat  upon  one  of  the  hand  benches  in  the 
caboose,  with  my  "grip"  lying  beneath  the  seat,  I 
considered  how  I  should  dodge  the  two  fellows  at 
Crawford.  There  was  no  danger  that  I  should  be  robbed 
on  the  train,  as  there  were  at  least  twenty  passengers 
on  boardl  Presently  one  of  the  men  sauntered  up  to 
my  seat,  sat  down  by  me,  and  began  to  talk. 

"See?"  said  he;  "you?r  with  Rodney  an'  Curtis, 
aint  yen,  one  o'  their  foremen  ? " 

I  answered  carelessly  that  I  was  in  their  employ. 

"  Paul  'n'  I's  goin'  up  the  road  lookin'  fur  a  rock  job. 
We're  strikers.    Could  ye  hire  us,  d'ye  think  % " 

"  Certainly,"  said  I ;  "  we  need  more  badly,  especially 


4    FEONTIER  SKETCHES.  77 

good  strikers.  Will  give  you  two  dollars  a  day,  and 
you  can  work  a  part  of  the  night  shift,  if  you  like." 

Then, /as  unconcernedly  as  I  could,  Iwent  on  to  tell 
him  about  our  work,  and  directed  him  how  to  find  our 
headquarters.  I  told  him  I  should  leave  Crawford  after 
breakfast  the  next  morning  on  horseback,  and  that  he 
and  his  partner  could  undoubtedly  find  a  freight  wagon 
there  on  which  to  take  passage  for  our  camp. 

After  some  further  conversation  with  the  man — a 
young-looking,  wiry,  dark-faced  fellow — he  went  over 
to  talk  to  his  "  pard,"  and  no  doubt  they  congratulated 
themselves  on  his  success  in  throwing  me  off  my 
guard. 

On  my  arrival  at  Crawford  I  went  to  the  company's 
tent,  where  food  and  other  supplies  brought  on  the 
construction  trains  were  stored  until  they  could  be 
shipped  forward  by  wagon  to  points  where  our  forces 
were  at  work.  There  I  explained  the  situation  to  the 
two  clerks  in  charge  of  the  tent,  and  said  that  I  wished 
to  spend  the  night  with  them. 

I  was  armed  with  a  good  "six-shooter,"  and  the 
clerks  had  each  a  light  Winchester  rifle.  They  said  we 
could  guard  the  money  without  trouble  that  night,  and 
it  was  arranged  that  I  should  start  for  the  grading 
camp  at  three  o'clock  the  next  morning.  By  leaving 
i  at  so  early  an  hour  I  believed  that  I  could  baffle  pur- 
suit by  any  robbers  who  might  have  conspired  to  fol- 
low me. 

My  pony — a  tough  Oregon  half-breed — was  picketed 
that  evening  behind  the  supply  tent,  and  the  clerks  and 
I  took  turns  in  sitting  on  guard  at  the  opening  of  the 
tent.  I  saw  nothing  of  the  two  "strikers"  after  we 
left  the  train,  and  no  suspicious  person  approached  the 


78  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

tent  that  night.  I  shifted  the  silver  from  my  "  grip  " 
into  a  pair  of  saddle-bags,  and,  armed  with  my  revolver 
and  a  borrowed  Winchester  rifle  and  a  belt  of  cart- 
ridges, mounted  my  pony  at  three  o'clock  the  next 
morning  to  complete  my  journey. 

Day  was  just  breaking  when  I  came  to  the  fork  of 
the  trail  at  Fort  Robinson,  two  miles  out  from  Crawford 
siding.  Both  routes  led  to  the  grading  camp, — one 
trail  lay  through  White  Kiver  canon  and  the  other  led 
to  my  destination  by  way  of  Driftwood.  One  of  these 
routes  I  must  take,  and  as  the  men  who  were  "shadow- 
ing" me  believed  that  I  would  proceed  by  way  of 
Driftwood  I  chose  the  White  Kiver  canon  route,  a 
rough,  new  trail  that  for  seventeen  miles  led  through  a 
tumbled,  rocky  gorge  or  canon  in  the  bottom  of  which 
rippled  merrily  the  little  streamlet  that  is  the  beginning 
of  the  White  River. 

I  urged  my  pony  forward  at  a  good  pace  until,  after 
sunrise,  I  passed  a  camp  of  freighters  who  were  prepar- 
ing their  breakfast,  and  later  met  several  wagons  on 
the  move,  which  relieved  the  loneliness  of  my  ride  and 
caused  me  to  feel  more  secure.  As  the  morning  was 
hot  and  oppressive  I  now  proceeded  more  slowly. 

About  half  an  hour  after  meeting  the  freighters  I 
halted  at  one  of  the  numerous  creek  crossings,  and  dis- 
mounted to  drink  and  to  eat  a  part  of  the  lunch  of 
crackers  and  dried  beef  which  I  had  brought  from  the 
commissary  tent.  As  I  had  no  cup  I  stretched  myself 
out  upon  the  rocks  at  the  edge  of  the  current,  and 
buried  my  nose  in  the  cool  water  of  the  spring-fed 
stream. 

As  I  lay  drinking,  with  my  head  just  above  the  water, 
a  distant  sound  of  horses'  hoofs  struck  on  my  ear.    I 


FBONTIBR  SKETCHES.  79 

ceased  to  drink,  listened  intently,  and  soon  heard  dis- 
tinctly the  noise  of  horsemen  coming  rapidly  up  the 
canon. 

I  sprang  to  my  feet  in  axarm.  My  first  impulse  was 
to  mount  my  pony  and  apply  the  spurs,  but  as  his  gait, 
a  racking  gallop,  was  a  very  slow  one,  I  came  to  the 
sudden  conclusion  to  dodge  into  the  brush  and  let  the 
horsemen,  whoever  they  were,  go  by.  There  were  a 
few  box  alder-trees  and  several  clusters  of  plum-bush 
close  under  the  rocks  on  the  right.  I  grasped  the 
bronco's  rein  and  led  him  in  behind  the  thickets  of 
thorn  and  tied  him. 

I  had  little  time  to  think  or  act  before  the  horsemen 
came  up  at  a  gallop ;  I  peered  through  the  leaves  as  they 
rattled  on,  and  discovered  that  there  were  six  riders 
and  that  the  two  strikers  were  in  the  lead.  They 
passed  my  hiding-place  without  an  apparent  suspicion 
that  I  was  concealed  there,  and,  though  still  much 
alarmed,  I  was  congratulating  myself  that  I  had  out- 
witted them  when,  just  as  they  rode  into  the  water,  my 
pony  lifted  up  his  head  and  uttered  a  shrill,  inquiring 
whinny. 

The  party  instantly  halted.  Every  rider  turned  his 
face  eagerly  in  my  direction,  and  a  half  dozen  rifles  and 
revolvers  were  jerked  into  readiness  for  action.  My 
pony  whinnied  again  before  I  could  get  a  grip  upon  his 
muzzle,  and  I  felt  that  unless  some  unexpectedly  fortu- 
nate circumstance  intervened  I  should  lose  the  money 
and  probably  my  life.  The  horsemen  were  determined, 
villainous-looking  men,  and  as  I  glanced  about  I  saw 
they  had  a  great  advantage  over  me.  The  scattered 
patches  of  pine  scrub  on  the  steep  bare  sides  of  the 
gorge  offered  me  but  little  shelter  for  a  retreat,  and  the 


so 


EBONTIER   SKETCHES. 


I  thrust  the  Winchester  through  the  tops  of  a  plum  bush  and 
fired."— Page  61. 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  el 

bushes  behind  which  I  stood  were  but  a  slight  protection 
against  heavy  bullets.  At  the  second  whinny  of  my 
horse  the  men  dismounted  and  stood  behind  their 
animals. 

"He's  in  there,  sure,"  I  heard  one  of  them  say. 
"  Spread  out,  boys,  an*  let's  surround  them  bushes." 

Without  waiting  to  hear  any  more  I  thrust  the  Win- 
chester ,  through  the  tops  of  a  plum  bush  and  fired  at 
their  nearest  horse,  aiming  at  its  body  back  df  the 
shoulder.  The  animal  went  down  with  a  groan,  and 
the  man  behind  it  sprang  back  with  a  fierce  oath. 

My  only  hope  now  was  in  swift  action  and  certain 
aim.  A  quick  motion  of  the  lever  re-loaded  and  cocked 
my  Winchester,  and  almost  before  the  horse  had  fallen 
to  the  ground  I  had  aimed  and  fired  at  the  fellow  as  he 
turned  to  run  for  cover. 

He  fell,  but  got  up  and  ran  again.  Shifting  my  aim, 
I  opened  a  rapid  fire  upon  the  other  horses  and  men. 
The  robbers  returned  a  few  hasty  and  ineffectual  shots, 
and  then  scattered  in  flight.  When  I  had  fired  the 
seventeen  shots,  which  emptied  my  repeating  rifle,  three 
horses  lay  on  the  borders  of  the  canon  at  various  dis- 
tances away,  and  one  man  with  a  broken  leg  was 
dragging  himself  toward  the  shelter  of  the  creek  bank. 
His  companions  had  fled  down  the  canon,  two  on  foot 
and  the  others  on  horseback.  Three  or  four  of 
their  shots  had  struck  in  the  brush  about  me,  but  none 
had  hit  me. 

The  sudden,  fierce  determination  which  had  seized 
upon  me,  and  the  swift,  effective  firing  which  followed, 
were  as  much  a  surprise  to  myself  as  they  could  have 
been  to  the  "road  agents,"  who  no  doubt  believed  there 
was  more  than  one  shooter  behind  the  bushes  that 


82  MiONTIEK    SKETCHES. 

sheltered  me.  I  dared  not  stop  to  look  after  the 
wounded  man,  who  undoubtedly  would  have  fired  at 
me  if  I  had  approached  him.  Mounting  my  pony  and 
keeping  as  much  as  possible  under  cover  of  bushes,  I 
rode  my  animal  at  his  best  speed  up  the  canon. 

About  five  miles  from  the  scene  of  the  shooting  I 
came  upon  a  grader's  camp,  and  sent  some  of  the  men 
to  look  after  the  wounded  robber  and  to  secure  the 
saddles  of  the  fallen  horses. 

I  afterwards  learned  that  they  got  the  saddles  but 

could  find  nothing  of  the  man. 

H.  H.  Cummacf, 


vm. 

OLAP  HBLGBRSON'S  PAY. 

\ 

There  were  rough  times  occasionally  on  the  street  of 
Jimtown  when  big  Olaf  Helgerson  and  his  friends 
came  in  from  the  Upper  Ussawau  Lake  and  made 
themselves  drunk  with  alcohol  and  water— not  that  the 
water  stirred  their  bloojl  or  fired  their  brains.  The 
Norse  settlers  of  James  county  generally  were  of  that 
sober  and  industrious  sort  who  have  borne  such  a  large 
share  in  breaking  up  the  great  prairies  of  the  North- 
west and  subduing  this  big  wilderness.  But  among 
this  people,  as  among  all  others,  there  is  more  or  less 
"  bad  blood,"  only  in  this  case  it  showed  itself  boldly 
and  badly  in  the  carousings  of  Olaf  and  Gulik  Helger- 
son and  their  neighbors,  the  Larsens  and  Joraegs. 

One  blustering  day  in  December  some  dozen  years 
ago  they  came,  a  half-dozen  of  them,  to  town,  and 
began  drinking  and  soon  grew  riotous.  Up  and  down 
the  single  street  of  Jimtown  they  caroused  from  one 
saloon  to  another,  pouring  down  fiery  alcohol  until  their 
faces  flamed  and  their  brains  reeled,  and  they  swaggered 
along  the  sidewalk  kicking  and  cuffing  at  each  other 
and  threatening  everyone  else  who  had  the  hardihood 
to  meet  them. 

The  town  people  kept  indoors,  and  no  one  thought  of 
making  an  arrest.  The  town  depended  for  its  main 
support  upon  the  Norse  trade,  and  so  a  Norse  frolic  was 
not  to  be  interfered  with. 

That  afternoon,  though,  matters  >'  came  to  a  head," 
and  the  men  came  out  of  their  stores  and  shops  and 


84  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

overawed  the  rough  Norwegians,  drunk  as  they  were. 
It  happened  in  this  wise :  Kneut  Halvorsen,  a  Norse 
lad  living  at  the  Lower  Ussawau  Lake,  came  in  that 
afternoon  to  get  mail  and  some  medicine  for  his 
mother,  who  was  ailing  with  rheumatism. 

The  post-office  was  kept  at  "  Iliff's  "  drug  store,  and 
as  Kneut  stepped  in  there  were  a  number  of  loafers 
seated  about  the  big  box-stove' listening  to  one  of  "  Old 
Iliff's  "  many  stories.  The  old  man  paused  in  his  nar- 
rations and  spoke  to  Kneut. 

"Kneut/'  said  he,  "Helgerson  and  his  crowd,  I 
s'pose  you  know,  are  in  town  t'day,  but  mebby  ye 
didn't  know  that  they're  drunk  as  loons  and  knockin' 
everybody  off  the  walks  ?  Better  git  yer  mail  'n*  go 
right  home." 

"  Faal,"  said  Kneut,"  I  ton't  alfays  pe  koin  to  run  af  ay 
fon  Olaf  Helgerson.  I  kot  me  yust  so  koot  a  ride  to 
keep  een  te  town  uss  he  haf. 

"  Wall,"  replied  the  old  man,  "  I  was  only  givin'  ye 
fair  warnin' ;"  and  he  resumed  his  story.  But  bis  hear- 
ers' interest  flagged,  in  view  of  Kneut's  combative 
spirit,  and  while  Tom  II  iff,  Jr.,  was  "  putting  up  "  a 
prescription  for  Mrs.  Halvorsen's  rheumatism  they 
watched  the  young  Norwegian  curiously. 

Presently  Kneut  turned  from  his  purchases  and  left 
the  store. 

"  There'll  be  a  fight,  sure,"  said  one  of  the  loungers ; 
and  he  went  to  one  of  the  front  windows  and  scratched 
the  frost  from  a  pane  that  he  might  look  out  upon  the 
street. 

The  quarrel  of  Helgerson  with  the  Halvorsens  had 
long  since  become  common  stock  in  Jimtown's  affairs 
of  local  interest,  and  dated  back  to  the  first  Norse  set- 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  85 

tlement  of  James  county,  when  Kneut  and  Gus  Hal- 
vorsen  were  lads.  It  came  about  by  the  death  of  widow 
Halvorsen's  brother,  Eric  Brakstead,  who  owed  Olaf 
Helgerson  for  a  yoke  of  oxen.  Eric's  claim  joined  that 
of  his  sister,  and  they  lived  together-and  helped  each 
other  in  improving  their  new  land.  Kneut  and  Gus 
were  old  enough  to  drive  teams,  and  the  widow  had  two 
yoke  of  oxen  of  her  own,  their  interests  being  kept  sep- 
arate, although  they  worked  often  together.  In  the 
spring  Eric  had  bought  a  yoke  of  steers  of  Olaf  Hel- 
gerson, giving  a  note  due  in  six  months,  when  he 
expected  his  wheat  harvest  would  enable  him  to  pay  it. 

Bad  luck  followed.  In  June  one  of  the  steers  was 
struck  by  lightning,  grasshoppers  came  and  devoured 
the  growing  wheat,  and  that  same  autumn  poor  Eric 
was  taken  with  typhoid  fever  and  died,  leaving  his 
claim  to  be  immediately  jumped  by  the  first  land-seeker. 
Helgerson  went  to  the  widow  with  Eric's  note  and 
demanded  payment  when  it  came  due.  She  informed 
her  neighbor  that  her  poor  brother  had  died  owing  her 
money,  and  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  pay 
his  other  debts ;  but  she  told  him  there  was  the  other 
ox  left,  which,  of  course,  she  should  expect  him  to  take. 

Eric  went  away  in  a  great  rage  and  immediately 
brought  suit  against  her.  The  jury,  of  course,  returned 
him  his  ox,  but  gave  her  the  verdict.  From  that  time 
on  Olaf  Helgerson,  a  wild,  rough,  passionate  fellow, 
spared  no  pains  to  vent  his  hatred  in  all  ways  that  he 
dared  against  the  widow  and  her  boys. 

He  often  threatened  Kneut  and  Gus  with  terrible 
threshings,  but  up  till  this  December  day  he  had  never 
touched  either  of  them.  The  boys  often  met  their 
belligerent  neighbor  upon  the  road,  at  the  Lutheran 


86  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

church  between  the  lakes,  or  at  other  Norse  gatherings. 
However,  they  had  for  several  years  carefully  avoided 
going  to  town  when  they  knew  that  Olaf  would  be 
there,  and  as  the  road  from  Upper  Ussawau  to  Jimtown 
ran  directly  past  their  door  they  generally  knew  when 
he  went  or  returned.  Indeed,  they  were  very  likely  to 
know  when  he  came  home,  for  he  was  nearly  always 
"  in  liquor  "  and  would  shout  and  curse  at  them  or  at 
the  house  as  he  rode  by. 

But  Kneut  had  grown  large  and  strong  as  a  man,  and 
he  had  heard  Olaf s  threats  so  often  that  they  had 
become  tame;  in  fact,  he  had  never  been  afraid  of 
Helgerson,  but,  knowing  the  latter's  habit  of  drunken 
brawling  when  in  town,  in  keeping  away  he  had  acted 
prudently  and  in  accord  with  his  mother's  wishes. 
Then,  too,  Olaf,  who  was  a  natural  leader,  had  drawn  a 
rough  crowd  around  him  who  generally  shared  his 
drunken  bouts  and  also  his  quarrels. 

/  Kneut  was  of  a  peaceable  disposition,  a  hard-working 
and  honest  lad,  who  desired  no  quarrel  with  any  one. 
But  this  day  as  he  stepped  out  of  "  IlifFs  "  Olaf  Helger- 
son was  coming  down  the  opposite  side  of  the  street, 
boisterously  drunk  and  aggressive.  He  saw  Kneut  and 
instantly  started  across,  wading  in  the  snow,  wildly 
swinging  his  arms  and  shouting  all  sorts  of  threats. 
Gulik,  Olaf's  brother,  Ole  Larsen,  and  Snell  Joraeg 
followed. 

At  sight  of  them  and  at  the  word  "  coward,"  which 
they  shouted  at  him,  Kneut's  young  blood  boiled. 
Regardless  of  consequences  he  stepped  down  from  the 
sidewalk  and  threw  off  his  big  knit  scarf,  his  overcoat, 
and  sheep-skin  mittens,  and  with  clinched  hands  awaited 
them. 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  8f 

"  Will  you  pay  me  seventy-five  dollars  ? "  shouted  the 
drunken  Olaf,  as  lie  came  up ;  he  spoke  in  the  Norse 
tongue,  and  flourished  his  big  fists  at  Kneut's  face  by 
way  of  emphasizing  the  demand. 

"  No,"  replied  Kneut ;  ard,  fiercely  clinching,  the  two 
whirled  round  and  round,  wrestling  and  jerking  each 
other  about  in  the  snow. 

Kneut  was  strong  and  sober,  and,  being  a  good 
wrestler,  as  soon  as  he  "got  his  head"  gave  Olaf  a 
sudden  trip  and  flung  the  tipsy  fellow  headlong  in  the 
snow  and  then  sprang  upon  him.  Then,  I  suspect,  had 
it  not  been  for  his  brother,  with  Ole  and  Snell,  all  too 
brutally  tipsy  to  think  of  fair  play,  Olaf  Helgerson 
would  have  received  a  sound  hammering  from  Kneutfs 
tough  knuckles.  But  these  three  now  pounced  upon 
Kneut,  and,  seizing  him  by  the  arms  and  legs^,  tore  him- 
away  from  Olaf  and  began  dragging  him  along  the 
street.  Olaf  staggered  to  his  feet  and  came  after  them, 
swearing  loudly  at  Kneut  and  threatening  dire  venge- 
ance. 

But  the  man  at  Iliff's  window,  and  a  number  of 
others  at  various  points  on  the  street,  had  seen  the 
scuffle,  and  by  that  magic  which  draws  people  so  quickly 
together  at  exciting  scenes,  a  crowd  gathered  and  at- 
tacked Kneut's  tormentors,  wrenching  them  away  and 
driving  them  from  him.  The  plucky  lad  was  bruised 
severely  in  many  places,  where  Olaf  had  brutally  kicked 
him,  but  the  townsmen  were  roughly  sympathetic,  a 
number  of  them  insisting,  in  spite  of  his  declaration  that 
he  "fan't  mooch  hoorted,"on  taking  him  into  "IliffV 
to  have  his  hurts  examined,  and,  if  need  be,  dressed. 
Others  hunted  up  the  constable  and  assisted  the  officer 


88  FBONTIBB  SKETCHES. 

to  arrest  the  four  drunken  fellows  and  lock  them  in  an 
old  coal-bin,  which  had  been  fitted  up  as  a  "  calaboose." 

Kneut's  bruises  were  only  black  and  blue  spots  on 
his  legs  and  one  arm,  and  after  Tom  Iliff  had  rubbed 
them  well  with  a  patent  liniment  he  went  out,  got  on 
his  horse,  and  set  out  for  home. 

On  the  road  he  had  time  to  think  coolly— very  coolly, 
if  the  weather  were  to  be  taken  into  consideration— and 
in  spite  of  the  indignities  he  had  received,  he  began  to 
regret  that  he  had  not  walked  rapidly  off,  as  he  might 
have  done,  and  get  out  of  the  way  of  Olaf. 

"  1  had  no  business  fighting  with  drunken  brutes  like 
the  Helgersons  and  those  other  fellows,"  he  thought, 
"  and  it  will  make  mother  feel  badly." 

But  before  reaching  home  he  had  something  else  to 
think  of ;  the  wind  suddenly  increased  to  a  gale,the  clouds 
thickened  and  grew  dark,  and  the  snow  came  down  in 
stinging  scuds,  driving  directly  in  his  face.  The  storm 
had  come  on  a  blizzard,  and  his  horse,  a  young  colt, 
snorted  wildly  and  shook  his  head  in  a  protest  against 
facing  it.  Kneut  urged  the  animal  forward,  as  he  had 
several*  miles  yet  to  go,  and  knew  from  experience  that 
the  storm  was  likely  to  increase  in  violence  rapidly 
until  midnight  or  later.  Keeping  the  colt  at  a  stiff 
trot,  and  bending  forward  to  break  the  force  of  the , 
blinding  drift,  he  managed  to  keep  the  road,  which, 
lying  in  the  path  of  the  wind,  was  in  most  places 
swept  bare.  He  had  nearly  reached  the  outlet  at  the 
foot  of  Lower  Ussawau,  when  a  team  with  a  sleigh 
attached  came  dashing  up  and  passed  him. 

He  knew  the  team  at  a  glance.  It  was  Olaf  Helger- 
son's  and  Olaf  was  lying  in  the  bottom  of  the  sleigh, 
too  drank,  probably,  to  sit  up,  and  one  line  was  drag* 


FRONTIER  SKETOHm  BW 

ging.  The  horses  were  going  at  a  keen  gallop,  and,  of 
course,  without  any  control ;  they  ran  with  their  heads 
low,  snorting  loudly,  and  evidently  keeping  the  road  by 
instinct  rather  than  sight.  They  were  young  spirited 
animals,  which  Olaf  had  raised  and  of  whose  speed  he 
boasted  greatly. 

"They'll  break  his  drunken  neck  befere  he  gets  home 
with  them,"  thought  Kneut,  *'  or  they'll  throw  him  out 
where  he'll  freeze  to  death."  This  last  catastrophe 
seemed  so  probable  that  Kneut,  in  alarm,  forgot, 
all  other  feeling  toward  Olaf  Helgerson,  and  whipped 
his  colt  into  a  run  to  overtake  the  sleigh. 

He  came  up  with  it  just  at  the  crossing  of  the  outlet ; 
here,  when  the  sleighing  was  bad  on  the  road,  Helger- 
son sometimes  turned  off  and  went  home  on  an  old 
"  hay  road"  which  led  through  the  marshes  on  the  east 
side  of  the  lake,  and  here  his  team,  no  doubt  sheering 
off  to  avoid  facing  the  storm  directly,  took  up  the  old 
trail  which  led  along  the  east  shore  of  Lower  Ussawau. 
There  were  no  houses  to  be  met  in  that  direction  for 
several  miles,  the  land  being  a  succession  of  swamps 
separated  by  "  hard-head  "  ridges  ;  the  region,  several 
miles  in  extent  each  way,  was  known  as  Lonesome 
Township. 

Kneut,  alarmed  at  being  turned  away  from  the  main 
road  even  for  a  moment,  ran  his  colt  alongside  the  run' 
aways,  and  tried  to  reach  the  bridle-rein  of  the  nearest; 
but  the  colt  he  rode,  only  half-broken,  was  both  "  skit- 
tish" and  unruly,  and,  try  as  he  might,  he  could  not  get 
the  animal  near  enough  to  let  him  grasp  a  rein  or  a 
line.  He  then  made  a  desperate  effort  to  get  in  front 
of  the  flying  horses  and  stop  them ;  but  again  the 
unruly  colt,  frantic  with  his  lashing  and  the  pelting  of 


90 


'&BOETIRR  SKETCHES*. 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  11 

the  storm,  proved  intractable,  and  would  only  rear  and 
plunge  in  an  effort  to  keep  out  of  the  way  of  the  team. 

Failing  in  this  attempt  Kneut  reined  up  for  a  moment, 
half  tempted  to  let  the  team  go  with  its  helpless  master, 
trusting  their  instinct  to  get  him  home  safely.  But  no, 
he  could  not  do  that.  Olaf  was  lying  there  like  a  log, 
with  his  big  buffalo  coat  on  and  also  a  robe  thrown 
partly  over  him ;  but  even  if  he  were  not  freezing 
already  another  half-hour  of  such  stupor  in  a  biting 
storm,  Kneut  reasoned,  would  surely  finish  him. 

The  tipsy  fellow  had  no  doubt  broken  away  from 
his  jail,  or  given  bail,  and  had  started  for  home,  trust- 
ing to  his  horses  to  take  him  through,  as  they  had  been 
known  to  do  on  two  or  three  occasions.  !No;  plainly 
Kneut  could  not  desert  him  in  this  howling  storm, 
with  all  that  waste  of  country  to  traverse  and  no  guide 
but  the  instinct  of  dumb  brutes. 

All  this  came  to  the  brave  lad  much  more  quickly 
than  I  have  written  it,  and  no  doubt  in  different  form, 
but,  at  any  rate,  he  urged  his  colt  forward  in  the  trail 
of  the  sleigh5  determined  to  follow  until  a  chance  offered 
for  gaining  control  of  the  team. 

Several  times  he  attempted  to  ride  alongside,  with 
the  purpose  of  flinging  himself  out  of  the  saddle  and 
into  the  sleigh-box,  but  the  unmanageable  colt  each 
time  foiled  him  by  plunging  and  floundering  and  fall- 
ing back  in  the  rear. 

Presently,  striking  a  long  flat  where  the  ground  had 
been  burned  bare  by  the  fall  fires,  and  the  covering  of 
snow  was  light,  Olaf's  team  quickened  their  pace  to  a 
stiff  run,  and  then  for  some  minutes  there  followed  a 
race  in  which  Kneut  could  barely  keep  in  sight  of  the 
runaways.    The  old  hay-road  had  disappeared  entirely, 


92  FEONTIEK   SKETCHES. 

and  the  storm  was  growing  thicker  every  moment. 
The  snow  whistled  across,  cutting  Kneut's  cheek  as  he 
bent  forward  and  filling  space  with  a  thick  white  dust 
through  which  he  had  to  strain  his  sight  to  penetrate 
even  the  distance  of  a  few  rods. 

It  was  a  perilous,  a  despairing  chase ;  no  road  left, 
the  lake-shore  out  of  sight,  the  direction  no  longer 
certain,  night  coming  on,  and  the  furious  blizzard  grow- 
ing thicker  and  colder  each  moment.  Even  should  the 
horses  hold  out,  and  all  survive  until  the  surrounding 
settlement  could  be  reached,  darkness  must  first  over- 
take them,  and  through  that  blinding  drift  of  snow  no 
light  could  be  seen  at  a  hopeful  distance. 

All  this  Kneut  realized  and  was  terribly  frightened ; 
but  he  pressed  on  heroically,  digging  his  heels  into  the 
colt's  ribs  and  urging  it  on  with  his  voice  and  manag- 
ing to  keep  the  sleigh  and  the  flying  team  in  sight. 
The  effort  kept  him  warm.  Suddenly  the  ground  grew 
rough  and  boggy  and  the  colt  stumbled  and  fell, pitch- 
ing Kneut  over  its  head  and  wedging  him  between  two 
hummocks  so  tightly  that  it  took  him  some  seconds  to 
extricate  himself.  He  had  clutched  the  bridle-rein 
tightly,  so  tightly  that  it  had  broken  at  the  buckle,  and 
as  he  struggled  finally  to  his  feet  he  still  held  the  long 
end  in  his  hand  while  the  colt  snorted  and  floundered 
about  him  among  the  bogs  and  snow. 

Kneut  hastily  rebuckled  the  rein  and  mounted.  He 
could  no  longer  see  the  sleigh,  but  there  was  still  the 
trail,  though  fast  filling  up,  where  the  plunging  team 
had  wallowed  through  the  snow  amid  the  bogs.  He 
followed  for  a  few  rods  and  came  within  sight  of  an 
object  which  proved  to  be  the  sleigh  without  the 
horses ;  the  beam  of  the  front  "  bob  "  had  struck  solidly 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES  93 

against  a  frozen  hummock  and  the  runner  had  broken, 
leaving  the  team  free  of  burden. 

Kneut  hastily  tumbled  off  his  horse,  tied  its  halter  to 
a  ring  in  the  end  rod  of  the  sleigh-box,  and  hurried 
around  to  Olaf,  who  lay  motionless  in  a  kind  of  heap 
where  he  had  been  thrown  by  the  jolt  into  the  front 
end  of  the  box. 

A  moment's  examination  proved  that  Helgerson  was 
alive  and  not  yet  badly  chilled,  for  his  face  was  flushed 
and  he  was  actually  snoring  in  a  drunken  stupor  of 
sleep.  Kneut  shook  him  roughly,  and  even  pounded 
him  in  an  effort  to  arouse,  but  could  only  get  him  to 
fling  his  arms  about  and  mumble  drunkenly  while  the 
snow  pelted  down  in  his  face. 

Kneut,  finding  it  impossible  to  get  him  awake,  ceased 
trying,  and  looked  about  in  desperation  to  see  what,  if 
any  thing,  might  be  done  to  save  him  from  freezing  to 
death — as  he  must  soon,  exposed  in  this  helpless  con- 
dition. 

The  Eorselad  did  not  stop  to  think  of  his  own  peril- 
ous situation.  A  glance  about  him  discovered  the  fact 
that  the  sleigh  had  lodged  at  the  edge  of  a  slough  and 
that  a  dense  growth  of  tall  rushes  was  in  sight  a  few 
yards  distant.  They  had  been  too  green  to  burn  when 
the  early  fall  fire  had  swept  across  them,  and  it  was  in 
such  rush  brake,  he  remembered,  that,  years  before,  the 
deer  used  to  take  refuge  from  the  winter's  cold  and 
storms. 

His  plan  was  formed  at  once,  and,  going  to  his  colt 
he  deliberately  stripped  it  of  saddle  and  bridle  and 
turned  it  loose.  "  Save  yourself  if  you  can,  Jan,"  said 
he,  and  the  animal  plunged  out  of  sight  while  ho  was 


94  FKONTIEE  SKETCHES.      ' 

Kneut  then  turned  his  attention  to  Olaf.  Ee 
wrapped  the  buffalo-robe  and  blanket  which  lay  in  the 
bottom  of  the  sleigh-box  about  the  stupid  man,  rolling 
him  in  them ;  then,  seizing  him  about  the  waist,  lifted 
his  limp  body  out  of  the  sleigh.  Then,  with  a  mighty 
effort,  he  tugged  his  big  enemy  forwardj  dragging 
Olaf  s  long  legs  among  the  bogs,  through  the  snow  and 
in  among  the  rushes.  He  pushed  on,  puffing  and  even 
sweating  with  exertion,  until  he  had  reached  a  point 
within  the  brake  where  the  thicket  became  so  dense 
that  he  could  no  longer  get  on  and  carry  his  burden. 
Then  he  dropped  Olaf,  and  with  his  hands  broke  down 
the  rushes  in  front,  making  a  path  some  rods  further. 
Here  he  oould  scarcely  feel  the  wind,  and,  thankful 
enough  to  have  found  such  fortunate  shelter,  went  back 
and  dragged  the  stupid  Helgerson  to  it.  Then,  clear- 
ing away  a  little  spot  and  piling  the  rushes  at  one  edge 
for  fire-wood,  he  opened  Helgerson's  big  coat  and 
searched  the  pockets  of  his  inside  garments,  and  luckily, 
with  a  pipe  and  a  package  of  tobacco,  in  one  of  them 
was  a  box  of  matches.  Then,  rolling  Olaf  up  in  his 
robe  and  blanket  again,  he  got  down  over  the  pile  of 
rushes  and  managed  to  light  them. 

And  now  began  a  strange  and  wearisome  night  vigil. 

Darkness  was  already  coming  on,  and  Kneut  began 
industriously  breaking  rushes  for  fuel.  He  broke  them 
upon  the  windward  side  and  threw  them  in  heaps  upon 
the  fire.  An  armful  of  them  would  not  burn  three 
minutes,  but  that  made  no  difference ;  the  fire  must  be 
kept  going,  and  undauntedly  he  worked  on  for  hours 
and  hours. 

He  had  laid  Olaf  as  close  to  the  blaze  as  he  dared, 


FBONTIEE   SKETCHES.  95 

and  occasionally  he  framed  his  huge  bundle  over  that 
the  heat  might  get  a  chance  at  both  sides. 

Once  and  a  while  he  pounded  Helgerson  vigorously 
and  then  listened  to  his  breathing,  but  he  could  only 
spare  a  moment  in  each  effort  to  awake  the  sleeper,  as 
the  fire  had  to  be  kept  going  at  all  hazards. 

The  circle  of  open  space  in  front  of  the  blaze  grew 
wider  as  Kneut  broke  the  rushes  and  threw  them  on. 
They  were  so  thick,  though,  that  an  armful  could  be 
gathered  without  stepping  out  of  his  tracks.  Steadily 
he  worked,  while  the  storm  whistled  and  howled  about 
his  head,  and  the  swaying  rushes  alternated  with  the 
driving  snow  in  dealing  him  stinging  cuts  upon  the  face. 

It  was  nearly  morning  when  Olaf,  after  a  pounding, 
came  to  himself,  and,  after  rubbing  his  eyes  and  mum- 
bling in  a  growling  voice  for  a  bit,  sat  up  before  the 
fire.  Curiously  and  half-dazedly  he  watched  Kneut 
coming  and  going  at  the  fire. 

Presently  Kneut  threw  on  an  extra  large  armful  and 
stopped  in  front  of  Olaf. 

"  Halloo,  Olaf  Helgerson ! "  he  shouted.  •'  Do  you 
know  where  you  are  ? " 

Olaf  gazed  at  him  earnestly  for  a  minute. 

"  You  are  Kneut  Halvorsen,"  he  said.  "  How  came 
we  here  ? " 

And  then,  while  feeding  the  flame  lightly  with  a 
fresh  bundle  of  rushes,  Kneut  told  his  story. 

When  he  had  finished  Olaf  staggered  to  his  feet  and 
threw  his  arms  about  Kneut. 

"Kneut,  Kneut?"  he  burst  out,  hugging  the  lad 
close  to  him,  "  I've  got  my  pay !  I've  got  my  pay  ! " 
And  the  big  rough  fellow,  in  his  wonder  and  gratitude, 
wept  like  a  child,  while  Kneut  supported  his  unsteady 


96  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

limbs.  He  hacjl  sobered  suddenly  and  thoroughly,  and 
after  Kneut  had  helped  to  walk  him  about  a  bit  gained 
the  use  of  his  limbs,  and  for  the  balance  of  the  night 
helped  Kneut  to  keep  the  fire  going. 

While  walking  about  Olaf  told  how  he  remembered 
rushing  against  the  door  of  the  "  calaboose,"  breaking 
it  down  and  running  for  his  sleigh,  but  he  could  remem- 
ber nothing  further. 

Morning  came  soon,  and  though  it  was  still  storming 
hard,  the  air  was  not  so  filled  with  snow  as  it  had  been, 
and  they  managed,  by  rightly  calculating  the  direction 
of  the  wind,  to  gain  the  lake  shore,  and  from  that 
point  it  was  an  easy  matter  to  find  the  way  around  to 
Kneut's  home,  just  above  Elk  Grove  Point.  Widow 
Halvorsen's  surprise  was  as  great  as  her  anxiety  had 
been ;  and,  when  her  son  and  her  late  enemy  had 
recounted  their  story  while  warming  themselves  at  the 
fire,  her  thankfulness  was  greatly  increased  to  know 
that  the  night's  adventure  had  made  them  friends  as 
well  as  brought  them  safe  out  of  the  storm. 

By  almost  a  miracle  of  instinct  or  luck  Olaf  s  horses 
reached  his  house  in  safety  and  found  their  way  into 
his  cattle-shed,  where  they  spent  the  night  among  the 
cows ;  but  Kneut's  colt  perished  in  the  blizzard,  and 
was  found  afterwards  some  five  miles  east  of  the  lakes. 
It  had,  no  doubt,  run  until  exhausted,  and  then  lain 
down  to  freeze. 

Olaf  replaced  Kneut's  loss  with  another  horse,  insist- 
ing that  even  then  he  was,  and  always  would  be, 
Kneut's  debtor,  and  since  that  night  his  neighbors 
declare  that  he  has  been  a  good  neighbor  and  a  decent 
man. 


IX. 

v  A  WILD  NIGHT-RIDE. 

At  nine  o'clock  one  September  eve*  tg  in  1876 1  tool 
the  coach  which  left  Custer  City — o^  Custer  Village, 
for  the  town  consisted  of  twenty  or  thirty  log  struc- 
tures— to  go  to  Sidney,  Nebraska.  A  coach,  I  suppose 
it  should  be  called,  though  on  t^e  plains  this  vehicle, 
which  has  the  driver's  seat  on  che  same  level  as  the 
passengers'  seats,  is  called  a  i(  ^ack." 

I  had  gone  to  the  "  Hills  "  to  engage  in  mining,  but 
after  four  months  of  prosp*  >ting  had  decided  to  open  a 
general  supply-store  at  tl  t  new  town  of  Dead  wood, 
and  was  on  my  way  to  Omaha  to  purchase  goods  for 
the  venture. 

A  tin  lamp,  fastened  id  one  corner  of  the  "  hack," 
discovered  to  me  two  passengers  within  as  I  entered 
and  took  my  seat.  One  was  an  old  gentleman,  appar- 
ently weak  and  ill,  for,  although  it  was  not  a  cold 
night,  he  was  muffled  in  a  coarse,  heavy  ulster  over- 
coat. Moreover,  so  much  of  his  face  as  I  could  see 
between  a  gray  beard  which  almost  covered  it  and  the 
rim  of  a  slouch  hat  was  pale  and  thin,  and  the  eyes 
looked  sunken  and  unnatural.  At  least,  so  it  struck  me 
at  a  cursory  glance. 

The  other  passenger  was  a  young  fellow  of  twenty- 
two  or  t  twenty  -three  years,  I  judged,  decidedly  dandi- 
fied in  his  dress  for  that  region.  He  wore  a  stiff  hat 
and  a  stand-up  collar  encircled  by  a  neat  tie,  and  had 
on.  a  dark  suit,  evidently  custom-made,  which  was  an 
unusual '"get-up"  for  that  region,  and  one  which  at 


98  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

once  aroused  my  suspicion,  for  the  only  persons  1  had 
seen  about  the  mining  towns  dressed  in  anything  like 
that  fashion  were  gamblers,  a  class  of  men  I  had  made 
it  a  point  to  avoid. 

Just  before  setting  out  the  driver  came  to  the  side 
of  the  vehicle,  thrust  in  a  light  Winchester  carbine, 
and  placed  it  between  my  knees. 

"  I  see  you  didn't  have  no  gun/'  said  he,  "  an'  I  keep 
a  couple  of  extra  ones  f  er  seen." 

That  was  all.  No  further  explanation  was  necessary 
in  those  days. 

I  took  charge  of  the  weapon,  although  I  was  as  little 
expert  in  its  use  as  I  was  in  handling  the  Smith  & 
Wesson  in  my  hip-pocket,  which,  indeed,  I  had  never 
yet  discharged. 

I  knew  enough  of  life  in  the  mines  to  know  that  the 
"  bad  man  with  a  gun  "  is  usually  the  man  who  gets 
into  difficulty  rather  than  the  peaceful  and  unarmed 
citizen ;  but  a  stage-ride  from  Custer  to  Sidney  at  that 
time  was  a  trip  not  altogether  likely  to  be  without 
its  adventures,  and  for  once  I  regretted  my  unfamiliar- 
ity  with  "  shooting  irons." 

It  occurred  to  me  that  if  we  were  "  jumped  by. road 
agents,"  as  the  phrase  went,  the  freebooters  of  the 
route  would  have  little  to  fear  from  the  occupants  of 
the  hack,   whether  they  got   much    money  or    not. 

There  were  usually  valuables  of  some  sort  in  the  iron 
box  under  the  driver's  seat. 

The  young  man  who  sat  opposite  me  nau  a  carbine 
across  his  lap,  but  I  fancied  he  knew  even  less  of  its 
use  than  I  did.  As  we  started  he  sat,  without  noticing 
me,  twirling  a  slight  mustache  and  humming  a  tune. 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  99 

"  A  fresh  gamester,  if  one  at  all,"  I  said  to  myself  upon 
a  second  look  at  him. 

The  old  man  had  no  arms  in  sight.  The  driver  no 
doubt  regarded  him  as  out  of  the  fight  at  any  event. 

As  we  rolled  on  up  into  Buffalo  Gap  I  had  a  few 
words  of  conversation  with  my  companions.  I  learned 
that  the  elder  was  an  Iowa  farmer  who  had  come  out 
to  see  what  he  could  do  in  the  new  mines,  but  he  had 
been  ill  with  mountain  f ever,and  afterward  attacked  by 
rheumatism,  so  that  he  had  been  forced  to  abandon 
his  projects  and  return  to  the  East.  He  spoke  freely, 
and  in  the  careless  English  of  Western  men. 

The  young  fellow  said  he  was  from  New  York.  "  Nefa 
Yawk,"  he  pronounced  it.  He  was,  he  said,  a  student 
of  mining  engineering,  but  he  did  not  mention  what 
his  business  had  been  in  that  region ;  but  that  was  not 
strange,  for  we  could  not  talk  much.  A  jolting  stage 
bowling  over  a  rough  country  at  eight  miles  an  hour 
does  not  give  the  best  opportunity  for  conversation. 

I  soon  became  sleepy,  and  leaning  back  in  my  cor- 
ner, took  such  momentary  cat-naps  as  the  nature  of 
the  road  permitted.  At  eleven  o'clock  we  made  a 
brief  halt  at  a  temporary  stage  station,  where  the 
driver's  four-in-hand  team  was  exchanged  for  fresh 
horses. 

I  peeped  out,  and  got  a  glimpse  of  the  teams,  of  two 
men  with  a  lantern,  of  a  low  structure  of  sod  or  adobe 
faintly  outlined,  and  of  the  black  side  of  a  pine-covered 
mountain  beyond.  The  night  was  quite  dark,  with 
floating  clouds  and  no  moon.  It  became  somewhat 
lighter  as  we  passed  out  of  the  gap  a  little  later,  as  I 
noted  through  a  crack  in  the  swaying  "  flap  "  opposite. 

The  road  was  now  smoother,  and  I  settled  back  in 


100  FEQNTIEB   SKETCHES. 

my  corner,  as  my  companions  had  done,  to  get  a  little 
solid  sleep  if  possible.  I  dozed  off  for  a  time,  but  was 
awakened  by  the  groaning  of  the  old  man  beside  me. 
He  seemed  to  be  in  great  pain,  and  writhed  about  ner- 
vously. I  asked  him  what  was  the  trouble.  He 
Teplied  that  the  rheumatism  in  his  legs  was  nearly  kill- 
ing him. 

"  I  wisht  the  driver'd  let  me  aout  when  we  git  t'  th* 
nex'  crick.  He'll  water  likely,  'n'  I've  jest  got  t'  stretch 
my  legs  er  die.  Ye  see  I'm  troubled  with  cramp  rheu- 
matism, an'  th*  ain't  no  room  in  hyer  t*  get  the  cramp 
out  o'  my  legs." 

I  told  him  I  would  speak  to  the  driver  when  we 
halted,  a  few  minutes  later,  at  the  bank  of  a  stream — 
White  River,  I  believe.  I  thrust  my  head  out  at  the 
side,  and  asked  that  the  old  gentleman  might  be  let  out 
for  a  moment  to  stretch  his  legs. 

"  All  right ! "  said  the  ^.river,  as  he  clambered  down 
from  his  own  seat.  "  Fm  goin'  ter  oncheck  V  let  the 
hosses  take  a  pull  at  th'  drink." 

I  then  helped  the  old  man  to  dismount,  steadying  him 
by  the  arm  as  he  got  down.  He  seemed  to  have  a  good 
deal  of  difficulty  in  alighting,  and  groaned  in  a  most 
lugubrious  fashion.  The  flap  swung  to  after  him,  as  I 
had  unbuttoned  it  all  around  to  let  him  out.  The  young 
man  opposite  me  lay  curled  up  on  his  seat,  but  I  could 
see  that  his  eyes  were  wide  open,  and  that  he  was  eying 
me  with  a  sharp,  keen  glance.  My  eyes  probably 
responded  when  they  fell  upon  his,  for  he  straightened 
up  in  an  alert  fashion,  and  leaned  toward  me. 

"  Say,"  he  whispered,  "  do  you  think  that  old  chap's 
all  right?  Strikes  me  that  groaning  of  his  was  put  on. 
What  dy'e  think?" 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  101 

The  question  startled  me  no  less  than  the  young  fel- 
low's manner,  and  I  was  about  to  make  some  reply- 
when  a  gun  or  pistol  shot  rang  in  our  ears,  followed  by 
a  yell  either  of  pain  or  surprise,  and  a  lurch  of  the  hack 
threw  me  forward  against  my  companion's  knees. 

Either  the  shot  or  the  yell  had  startled  our  team,  and 
we  went  down  the  bank  and  into  the  stream  with  a 
lunge.  I  heard  shots — one,  two,  three — as  we  splashed 
through  the  water.    Then  more  yells,  loud  and  fierce. 

My  notion  of  what  had  happened  or  was  happening 
was  confused  for  a  moment,  and  then  I  saw  my  com- 
rade— for  the  light  still  burned — crawling  through  to 
the  driver's  seat  as  we  went  careening  up  the  ooposite 
bank. 

A  second  later  he  had  gathered  the  lines,  which  were 
tied  in  front,  and  while  he  held  them  with  one  hand  he 
grasped  a  front  rib  of  the  hack  with  the  other.  Then 
he  leaned  out  and  glanced  back. 

Luckily  the  horses,  which  were  going  at  a  gallop — 
they  were  animals  which  needed  no  urging — kept  to 
the  road,  and  the  cool-headed  young  fellow  was  not 
pitched  out. 

"  There's  a  lot  of  'em,"  he  shouted  in  at  me  a  moment 
later.  "  I  can  just  see  four  or  five  getting  onto  their 
horses.  They've  killed  the  driver,  I  guess,  and  after  us 
now! " 

With  that  he  gathered  up  the  long-lashed  whip, 
which  lay  in  the  boot,  and  dropping  upon  his  knees 
began  yelling  and  laying  the  whip  upon  the  team. 

In  a  moment  we  were  going  at  a  fearful  pace,  and 
despite  the  excitement  and  fright  of  the  moment  I 
noticed  that  our  four  horses  came  to  hand  and  ra» 


102  FBONTIER   SKETCHES. 

with  a  steady,  even  gait  which  did  credit  to  the  young 
man's  driving. 

"  Get  ready  for  'em  now  !  "  he  screamed  back  at  me ; 
"  they'll  be  down  on  us  in  a  minute.  Open  the  back 
flap  'n'  pour  it  into  'em  with  your  guns,  and  when 
they're  empty  get  mine  under  the  seat ! " 

He  was  my  captain  as  well  as  driver,  and  I  obeyed 
instinctively,  for  I  certainly  had  formed  no  plan  of 
defense  or  action  on  my  own  account. 

I  managed  to  unbutton  and  roll  up  the  leather 
behind,  and  peering  out,  on  my  knees  before  the  back 
seat,  I  saw  that  we  were  indeed  followed.  It  was 
light  enough  to  distinguish  objects  dimly  at  a  hundred 
yards,  and  there  were  at  least  five  horsemen  in  our 
rear,  tearing  along  at  the  top  of  their  animals'  speed. 
Knowing  that  they  were  within  rifle-shot  I  opened  are 
on  them  over  the  seat.  I  worked  the  lever  of  my  gun 
as  rapidly  as  I  could,  but  made  awkward  business  of 
it.  Presently  I  got  a  shell  stuck,  and  began  trying  to 
get  it  out.  In  the  meantime  our  pursuers  were  gaining 
with  every  second. 

They  were  within  fifty  yards  before  I  could  get  out 
my  shell  and  I  was  too  excited  to  think  of  using 
another  gun.  Suddenly  the  light  in  the  hack  went 
out,  and  a  hand  upon  my  shoulder  jerked  me  backward. 
Then  a  voice  yelled  in  my  ear : 

"  Let  me  get  at  them !  Load  the  guns  for  me,  'n' 
let  the  team  go.  We  might's  well  smash  as  be  riddled 
by  bullets.     Here,  here's  two  boxes  of  cartridges !  " 

I  dropped  back  to  the  other  seat  and  gave  place  to 
him.  He  threw  his  carbines  over  the  back  of  the  hind 
seat  and  began  firing. 

Crj&ek !    crack !    crack !     It  seemed  to  me  that  a 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  103 

steady  stream  of  fire  poured  out  of  the  back  of  the 
stage,  and  before  I  had  filled  the  magazine  of  my  gun, 
Nhis  was  empty.  He  snatched  mine,  however,  and 
thrust  his  own  back  at  me. 

Loading  was  awkward  business  at  first,  as  I  had  to 
feel  for  the  feeder,  but  I  managed  soon  to  thrust  them 
into  my  gun  as  fast  as  he  could  work  the  lever  of  his 
own.  The  men,  whoever  and  whatever  they  were,  rode 
up  to  within  twenty-five  or  thirty  yards,  and,  spreading 
out,  opened  fire  on  us. 

"  Keep  close  down  in  the  bottom ! "  shouted  my  com- 
rade, as  he  kept  on  with  his  firing. 

The  "  road  agents  "  did  not  come  nearer,  evidently 
fearing  too  great  exposure  to  the  stream  of  shots  from 
the  hack,  and  my  courage  rose  to  something  near  the 
level  of  my  companion's.  I  caught  glimpses,  as  I 
glanced  up  now  and  then,  of  a  plunging  horse-man  with 
shadowy,  outstretched  arm,  from  which  flashed  blaze 
after  blaze  of  light. 

All  at  once  we  began  descending  into  a  gulley,  and 
the  hack  bounced  from  side  to  side  so  violently  that  it 
was  impossible  for  us  to  do  anything  but  cling  to  the 
sides  of  the  box. 

"  It's  all  right !  "  rang  my  companion's  voice  in  my 
ear,  shortly  after  we  had  begun  the  descent ;  "  they've 
quit.  They  can't  ride  along  the  side  of  the  gulch,  and 
daren't  follow  straight  behind.  There's  a  stage  ranch 
below,  too.     I  remember  the  road." 

Sure  enough,  the  men  had  dropped  back,  and  the 
shots  ceased.  My  cool,  brave  comrade  now  clam- 
bered over  me,  and  in  some  way  got  into  the  front  seat 
of  the  jumping  coach.  A  moment  later  I  noticed  that 
we  were  slowing  up  and  running  more  steadily.    Five 


104  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

minutes  more  we  halted,  what  was  left  of  us,  safe  and 
lound  in  front  of  a  stage  station. 

Our  story  was  soon  told,  our  horses  exchanged  and 
a  fresh  driver,  doubly  armed,  put  with  us.  Such  little 
accidents  did  not  stop  stages  in  those  parts. 

There  was  no  clanger,  they  told  us,  from  that  same 
gang.  The  three  men  who  were  left  promised  to  go 
immediately  and  look  after  our  other  driver. 

It  was  only  the  darkness  and  the  motion  of  the 
vehicle  and  horses  that  had  saved  us  from  being  hit. 

"We  found  several  bullet  marks  about  the  coach  next 
morning ;  one  of  them,  well  aimed,  had  gone  through 
the  back  seat  at  an  angle  and  into  the  front,  and  must 
have  passed  directly  between  us.  My  respect  for  my 
young  companion  was  greatly  raised  by  the  events  of 
that  night,  and  was  further  increased  by  an  after 
acquaintance  which  discovered  his  real  modesty  and 
worth. 

On  my  return  to  the  "Hills,"  I  learned  that  our 
driver  had  been  picked  up  at  the  crossing  of  the  creek, 
badly  wounded,  and  also  that  the  brave  fellow  had 
yelled  to  the  team  to  go  the  very  second  he  was  hit. 
He  had  been  carried  to  Sidney.  As  to  the  rheumatic 
old  man,  he  was,  of  course,  a  rascal  in  league  with  the 
band  who  had  attacked  us. 


X. 

CARLEN  AND  HIS  COMET. 

Several  years  ago,  if  one  had  been  traveling  through 
Lake  Township,  in  a  county  of  eastern  Dakota,  and 
had  inquired  who  was  its  best  known  and  most  reputa- 
ble citizen,  the  answer  in  almost  every  case  would  have 
been  Emmet  Carlen,  and  almost  any  settler  could  have 
pointed  out  on  the  level  prairie,  from  his  own  door,  the 
house  and  buildings  of  the  young  Norwegian  upon  the 
crest  of  "  Tip-Top  Knoll,"  at  the  head  of  Kush  Lake. 

Emmet  began  life  in  Lake  Township  as  many  other 
Norsemen  in  many  other  regions  of  our  New  West 
have  done,  with  no  possessions  save  a  change  of  cloth- 
ing ;  but,  at  the  end  of  a  few  years,  he  had,  by  his  thrift 
and  industry,  secured  and  improved  a  new  farm,  and 
placed  himself  on  the  sure  road  to  comfort  and  plenty. 

At  the  time  of  which  I  write,  however,  it  was  not  so 
much  his  thrift  that  made  him  a  marked  man,  but  a 
certain  daring,  cool-headedness  which  he  had  always 
displayed  when  courage  and  intrepidity  were  demanded 

Once,  at  his  own  great  peril,  he  had  carried  food  and 
extra  clothing  to  a  school-teacher  and  a  half-dozen 
small  children  who  were  confined  in  a  little  school- 
house,  nearly  a  mile  from  any  habitation,  by  one  of  the 
fiercest  blizzards  ever  known  in  that  region.  This 
happened  during  the  first  year  of  his  stay  there,  and 
while  be  was  working  for  his  board  and  attending 
school  with  the  little  ones  whose  lives  he  saved. 

Strangely  enough,  he  was  again  to  figure  as  the 
rescuer  of  two  of  these  same  children  from  another 

105 


106  FRONTIER  SKBTOHESi 

sweeping  storm,  one  even  more  terrible  than  the  dreaded 
blizzard,  a  storm  of  fire,  as  it  swept  over  the  tall,  dry 
grass  of  the  unbroken  prairie. 

To  this  exploit,  however,  there  was  another  party, 
Emmet's  big  steer,  "  Comet,"  without  whose  aid,  indeed, 
the  children  must  have  perished. 

This  animal  was  quite  as  noteworthy  as  his  master. 
"  Comet "  was  a  huge,  long-legged,  long-horned  steer. 
For  two  years  Emmet  had  only  his  help  in  plowing 
and  cultivating  the  "  Tip-Top  "  homestead,  except  that 
the  breaking  of  sod  was  done  by  hired  "  breakers." 

The  young  Norseman  hitched  his  steer  to  a  heavy 
cart,  and  drove  him  to  market  at  the  small  but  ambi- 
tious town  of  Boomerang,  eight  miles  distant.  In  win- 
ter, when  snow  fell  and  the  roads  were  good,  a  light 
sled  took  the  place  of  the  cart. 

Before  the  sled  Comet  soon  gained  a  local  reputation 
for  speed  upon  the  road.  His  gait  was  a  steady,  long- 
stepping  trot,  like  that  of  an  elk,  and  nearly  as  swift. 
At  any  rate,  it  was  soon  an  admitted  fact  that  there 
were  no  horses  in  the  neighborhood  that  could  pass 
Comet  in  a  trotting-match.  This  was  abundantly 
proved  by  many  races  along  the  road  to  town  and 
back,  where  the  drivers  of  the  teams  or  single  horses 
had  tried  and  failed  to  "  go  by  "  the  fleet  steer. 

Comet  had  taken  his  name  from  a  former  owner,  and 
it  was  given  him  because  of  his  wonderful  speed  and  a 
habit  of  flying  his  long  tail  as  a  horizontal  streamer 
while  "cutting'7  away  from  the  herd  and  the  herder's 
pony.  The  owner  was  willing  to  sell  the  animal  cheap, 
because  he  was  unruly  and  hard  to  break.  Emmet 
heard  of  the  chance  to  buy,  and  bethought  him  of  the 
plan,  often  adopted  in  Norway,  of  driving  oxen  singly. 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  107 

But  he  had  no  ready  money.  Although  he  had 
strong  objections  to  running  into  debt,  he  did  so  now, 
and  obtained  Comet  by  giving  his  note  for  twenty  dol- 
lars. Then,  having  fashioned  a  yoke  and  harness  of 
the  Norse  pattern,  he  set  to  work  with  characteristic 
patience  and  kindness  to  bring  the  big,  headstrong  ani- 
mal "  under  the  yoke." 

His  success,  though  won  after  a  hard  struggle,  was 
complete,  and,  in  a  few  weeks  Comet,  hitched  to  a 
vehicle  made  from  two  wheels  of  an  old  wagon,  with 
Emmet  seated  upon  the  axle,  was  driven  to  Boomer- 
angs There  the  young  fellow  bought  a  few  boards  at 
the  lumber  yard,  nailed  together  a  rough  box,  secured 
it  by  bolts  and  braces  to  the  axle  which  had  served  him 
for  a  seat,  and  rode  home  in  triumph. 

That  autumn  Emmet  bought  a  small  ten-inch  stirring 
plough,  and  turned  over  ten  acres  of  sod.  The  steer 
pulled  the  implement  with  ease  after  a  short  training. 

The  next  year  another  ten  acres  was  broken  upon 
the  homestead,  and  Comet  was  still  sufficient  for  all 
Emmet's  purposes.  It,  was  in  October  of  this  year 
that  the  event  which  is  the  subject  of  this  narrative 
occurred. 

Emmet  was  ploughing.  The  day  was  one  of 
those  common  to  that  season  in  new  prairie  regions, 
smoky,  with  a  strong  northwest  wind  smelling  of 
burned  grass,  a  fine  dust  of  cinders  sifting  down,  and 
sun  shining  through  smoke  and  dust  with  a  dull  red 
glare.  But  as  Emmet  had  sometime  before  burned  a 
broad  "fire  break  '  around  his  shanty,  grain  and  hay- 
stacks, he  noted  these  evidences  of  raging  fires  without 
uneasiness.    They  came  at  some  time  every  autumn. 

It  was  about  the  middle  of  the  afternoon  that  little 


108  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

Jake  and  Lib  Walker  came  into  his  field,  bringing 
some  grain  bags  which  Emmet  had  lent  their  father  to 
use  during  his  threshing  the  week  before. 

Walker  lived  at  the  foot  of  Eush  Lake,  about  a  mile 
from  the  school  house,  where  the  young  Norwegians 
had  taken  lessons  in  English,  and  these  little  fellows, 
Jake  and  Lib,  had  been  his  schoolmates  when  the  "  big 
blizzard  "  came,  cutting  them  off  suddenly  from  home 
and  imperilling  their  lives. 

"  Hal-lo,  Yakie ;  hal-lo,  Libbie !  You  a  koot  fays 
from  home,  aint  it?"  was  Emmet's  greeting  as  the 
lads  came  up,  each  staggering  under  a  back-load  of 
sacks. 

"We've  been  a  good  deal  further'n  this  more'n 
once,"  said  Jake,  "  and  we've  got  to  go  clear  round  the 
lake  'n'  drive  the  cows  home  yit  to-night.  They're 
away  over  yonder,"  pointing  across  the  lake,  "  where 
the  wild  rice  grows  'long  the  edge,  and  pa's  gone  to 
town." 

"Sit  you  ride  town  on  t'em  packs  t'ere,  "said  Emmet, 
"  unt  rest  yo'  leeks,  unt  I  feel  let  Comet  rest,  too.  I 
did  tink  meppe  as  I  coot  feenish  tot  bloughin'  py 
night-time  put  I  ton't  know  off  I  ken  to  ut. " 

And  then,  seated  on  the  plough-beam,  he  talked 
pleasantly  with  the  boys  for  a  few  minutes,  then  tell- 
ing them  that  he  would  carry  the  sacks  to  the  house 
when  he  turned  out,  bade  them  "  look  out  unt  not  ket 
lost  een  t'em  tall  krasses, " — tall  grass — as  they  trudged 
sturdily  away  toward  the  upper  end  of  the  lake. 

The  lads  had  been  gone  from  the  field  about  half  an 
hour  when  Emmet  noted  with  alarm  that  the  smoke 
which  had  pervaded  the  air  all  day  had  thickened, 
until  now  the  sun  was  almost  clouded  over,  showing 


feontieb'  sketches.  109 

only  a  dull  red  disk.  The  smell  of  burning  grass  had 
grown  more  pungent. 

His  fears  were  aroused  wholly  on  account  of  the  two 
boys  who  had  gone  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  The 
field  in  which  he  was  at  work  lay  upon  the  south  side 
of  the  hill  upon  which  his  shanty  stood,  shutting  off 
the  view  to  north  and  west,  from  whence  the  wind  was 
blowing. 

He  unhitched  Comet  at  once,  and  drove  him  at  a 
trot  to  the  top  of  the  hill. 

No  sooner  had  he  reached  the  Grest  than  he  saw 
cause  enough  for  alarm.  Not  two  miles  away  to  the 
northwest  dense  volumes  of  smoke  were  rising  and  roll- 
ing forward  over  a  broad  stretch  of  prairie.  A  big 
prairie  fire  was  sweeping  down  at  a  tremendous  rate 
of  speed,  the  "  head  fire"  lining  out  directly  to  ward  the 
head  of  the  lake. 

What  could  he  do  to  save  those  two  boys  ?  was  the 
young  Norwegian's  first  thought.  They  must  be  even 
at  that  moment,  he  thought,  well  round  the  head  of  the 
lake,  wading  through  the  tall  grass  of  the  flat.  There 
was  no  bank  to  the  lake  upon  that  side;  wild  rice  and 
tall  rushes  grew  far  out  into  the  water,  and  this  swamp 
^growth  would  burn  to  its  very  edge.  He  could  not 
race  with  the  fire  on  foot,  and  "he  doubted  if  even  a 
horse  would  be  able  to  outstrip  it,  but  he  instantly 
resolved  to  make  the  trial  with  Comet. 

He  had  frequently  ridden  the  big  fellow,  who  had 
become  as  docile  and  obedient  as  a  dog,  to  and  from 
the  field,  hawing ^nd  geeing  him  about  at  will.  Now, 
if  possible,  he  would  ride  the  fleet-footed  steed  to  some 
purpose.  To  throw  off  the  yoke  and  harness,  tie  a  rope 
around  the  animal's  body  to  cling  to,  and  another  to 


110  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

either  horn  to  serve  as  reins,  was  the  work  of  a  minute; 
then,  whip  in  hand,  Emmet  mounted  and  was  off. 

Comet,  feeling  a  few  stinging  blows  of  the  whip, 
broke  away  at  his  swiftest  trot.  Although  his  gait  had 
more  than  once  defied  the  best  trotters  of  the  settle- 
ment, the  big  steer  could  hold  it  with  ease  for  a  length 
of  time  that  seemed  incredible.  In  fact,  as  had  been 
proved  when  Comet  ran  wild  among  the  settlement 
herds,  the  animal  was  as  nearly  tireless  as  flesh  and 
blood  could  be. 

But  it  was  a  rough  ride,  and  Emmet  was  obliged  to 
cling  tightly  with  one  hand  to  the  girth-rope,  while 
managing  reins  and  whip  with  the  other. 

The  whip,  however,  was  not  needed,  and  the  rider 
had  only  to  yell  "  Hi !  Hi !  "  to  keep  the  steer  flying  at 
his  best  gait.  With  head  np  and  tail  streaming,  Comet 
rounded  the  point  of  the  lake,  some  half-mile  from  the 
knoll  cabin,  just  as  the  u  head  fire  "  reached  the  upper 
end  of  the  flat  which  lay  to  west  and  north  of  the  lake. 

That  "  head  fire  "  was  now  not  a  mile  distant,  and 
was  coming  directly  down  the  flat  which  followed  the 
southeast  trend  of  the  lake. 

The  smoke  had  grown  so  thick  that  Emmet  could 
only  see  a  few  hundred  feet  ahead,  but  he  kept  well 
within  sight  of  the  lake  shore,  knowing  that  the  boys 
could  not  have  gone  far  down  as  yet,  and  that  they 
were  not  likely  to  wander  far  from  the  lake's  edge,  for 
fear  of  getting  lost.  Their  cattle,  too,  would  be  found 
along  shore,  feeding  upon  the  rice-heads. 

"Hi!  Hi!  Hi!" 

Away  they  tore  through  the  high  grass,  across 
ditches,  over  rough,  boggy  spots,  the  rider  getting  a 
terrible  pounding,  the  steer  possessed  of  but  one  instinct, 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  Ill 

it  seemed — to  respond  to  those  sharp  yells  with  the 
utmost  possible  strides  of  his  long,  fleet  legs. 

The  fire  meanwhile  was  gaining  every  moment,  in 
spite  of  his  tremendous  exertion.  Emmet  could  see 
that  the  smoke  closed  in  thicker,  and  feel  that  the  air 
was  growing  hot  and  oppressive. 

But  suddenly  two  little  dark  objects  appeared  a  few 
yards  ahead,  bobbing  above  the  waving  grass. 

Emmet  gave  a  shout  of  delight ;  it  was  the  black 
heads  of  Jake  and  Lib,  nodding  as  they  ran.  Their 
hats  were  off,  and  they  were  running  as  fast  as  the 
wilderness  of  grass  would  let  them. 

In  an  instant  Comet  was  alongside,  and,  with  a  few 
sharp  whoas  and  a  hard  pull  at  the  reins,  Emmet 
managed  to  stop  him  but  a  few  yards  in  front  of  the 
boys. 

They  ran  to  him  with  eager  shouts,  their  fright 
turned  to  joy  at  the  sight  of  him.  But  without  wait- 
ing to  answer  them  he  leaned  forward,  caught  Lib  by 
the  arm,  and  swung  him  up  in  front,  then  helped  Jake 
to  scramble  on  behind. 

"  Hank  tight  to  me,  Take/'  he  said ;  then,  throw- 
ing an  arm  around  Lib  and  grasping  the  rope,  he  dug 
his  heels  into  Comet's  ribs,  and  with  a  shrill  "  Hi ! 
Hi !  "  set  the  steer  off  again  at  a  swinging  pace. 

The  crackle  and  roar  of  the  fire  could  plainly  be 
heard  as  they  started,  and  Comet,  either  objecting  to 
his  additional  burden  or  uneasy  at  the  smell  and  the 
roar  of  the  fire,  began  snorting  and  throwing  his  head 
on  either  side  ominously. 

Emmet  feared  that  the  steer  would  become  unman* 
ageable,  and  as  a  last  resort,  determined  to  run  him 
into  the  lake  and  make  a  swim  for  it.     Somewhere 


112 


FB0NTIER   SKETCHES. 


not  far  .below,  lie  knew  there  was  an  arm  of  the  lake 
about  one  hundred  yards  wide,  extending  out  a 
considerable  distance  into  the  flat,  and  this  arm,  or 
bayou,  he  had  hoped  to  reach. 

He  knew  that  Comet  would  not  hesitate  an  instant 
to  plunge  into  it  and  swim, — the  steer  had  been  known 


mmmi 


"Hank  tight  to  me,  Yake."— Page  111. 

to  swim  clear  across  the  lake  itself, — and  once  upon 
the  other  side,  he  could  soon  make  his  little  party 

safe. 

Suddenly  the  smoke  lifted,  and  he  ventured  a  glance 
backward.  The  sight  was  appalling!  The  smoke, 
driven  upward  by  the  rush  of  heated  air,  was  flying 


FE0NTIER   SKETCHES.  113 

above  their  heads,  leaving  the  jumping  flames  in  plain 
view. 

The  head  fire  was  not  a  quarter-mile  distant,  Emmet 
judged,  and  was  bearing  down  on  them  with  terrible 
speed,  the  flames  shooting  higher  than  he  had  ever  seen 
them  rise  before. 

Little  Jake  and  Lib  clung  to  him  without  a  word, 
while  Comet  threw  his  head  about  and  snorted  more 
violently  than  before. 

But  suddenly  there  was  a  strip  of  water  before  them; 
the  arm  of  the  lake  had  been  reached.  A  moment 
more,  and  they  were  into  it  with  a  splash,  and  Comet 
was  swimming  with  his  heavy  burden  and  carrying  it 
more  easily  than  he  had  been  able  to  bear  it  upon  land ; 
but  his  body  sank  until  the  water  came  up  to  Jake's 
waist,  and  nothing  but  the  nose  and  horns  of  the  steer 
could  be  seen. 

But  swimming  was  much  slower  work  than  running 
had  been,  and  by  the  time  the  opposite  shore  was 
reached  the  fire  was  already  roaring  at  the  other  edge. 

Emmet  leaped  off  into  the  edge  of  the  water,  and 
pulled  Jake  and  Lib  with  him. 

"  Here ! "  he  shouted,  giving  them  the  ropes.  "  Hank 
tite  to  'im  ;  ton' t  let  'im  loose  off  you  can  hold  to  'im. 
-You  yust  so  safe  as  to  home  now." 

They  obeyed  manfully,  and  Emmet,  drawing  a 
match-box  from  his  vest  pocket,  dropped  upon  his  knees 
at  the  nearest  dry  place,  and,  lighting  a  match,  held  his 
hat  over  it  until  the  flame  had  touched  the  blades  of 
grass  which  he  bent  toward  it ;  then  he  stepped  back 
into  the  water  and  took  charge  of  the  steer  again. 

The  flames  on  the  other  side  had  now  reached  the 


114  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

water's  edge,  and  bunches  of  burning  grass  were  blown 
toward  them. 

For  an  instant  the  heat  was  intense,  almost  scorch- 
ing. Great  tongues  of  angry  flame  lapped  over  among 
the  waters  and  reached  out  toward  them.  Then,  with 
a  final  cracking  whish!  they  died  out,  leaving  a  black, 
smoking  surface  beyond. 

The  tire  swept  on  around  the  bayou,  but  mean- 
while Emmet's  small  blaze  sprang  up  and  stretched 
away,  gathering  force  and  speed  as  it  swept  a  wider 
space. 

Comet  took  things  quietly  after  his  swim,  which  had 
cooled  his  skin,  and  his  dripping  coat  of  hair  served  to 
protect  him  from  the  violent  heat  which  reigned  for  a 
moment. 

"  Fall,"  said  Emmet,  when  the  coast  was  clear, "  Fall, 
little  poys,  ve  kin  ko  to  you'  house  now." 

Walker's  house  was  only  a  mile  distant,  but  they 
reached  it  long  after  the  fire  had  passed,  and  found 
that  Mrs.  Walker  had  been  nearly  wild  about  her  boys 
until  she  saw  them  coming. 

"  I  might  have  known  you'd  save  'em,"  she  said  to 
Emmet,  while  grateful  tears  ran  down  her  face,  as  she 
listened  to  the  story  of  their  escape.  Their  cattle  had 
taken  fright  and  come  home  about  an  hour  before. 


XL 

CAUGHT  IN  A  BLIZZARD. 

The  tremendous  hurricane  of  snow  and  wind  which 
swept  over  our  great,  level  Northwest  in  January, 
1888,  was  accompanied  by  incidents  tragic,  thrilling 
and  heroic,  that  will  no  doubt  become  a  part  of  the 
history  of  the  vast  region  over  which  the  storm 
swept. 

In  northwestern  Iowa  the  blizzard  descended  with 
a  suddenness  and  fury  which  made  the  early  settlers 
shudder  as  they  thought  of  the  barren,  unprotected 
prairies  of  fifteen  or  twenty  years  before.  "  If  'twasn't 
for  our  maple  and  Cottonwood  groves  and  big  fields  of 
cornstalks,"  said  they,  "  wouldn't  we  ketch  it  ?" 

Happily,  we  had  these  protections,  and  suffered 
neither  loss  of  life  nor  great  inconvenience,  though  we 
complained  more  or  less  because  our  daily  mails  were 
cut  off  and  our  freights  delayed  even  for  a  short 
period.  But  really  our  most  important  grievance  when 
we  are  visited  by  these  occasional  fierce  storms  in 
winter  is  the  stoppage  of  hay  hauling,  pressing  and 
shipping,  which  is  our  chief  industry  at  that  season. 

It  was  in  connection  with  hay  hauling  in  one  of  our 
marshy,  unsettled  townships  that  there  occurred  an 
incident  of  extreme  peril,  of  fortitude  and  intelligent 
exercise  of  the  faculties  amid  great  danger,  which,  at 
the  time  it  came  to  light,  was  almost  lost  sight  of  in 
our  interest  in  the  widespread  calamities  which  fell 
upon  our  unprepared  neighbors  on  the  more  newly 
settled  prairies  of  the  North  and  West. 

115 


118  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

The  little  railway  station  of  Duponi,  in  one  of  the 
thinly  settled  districts,  was  built  entirely  in  the  inter- 
ests of  the  hay-pressing  business,  for  which  the  unin- 
habited flats  of  Lowland  and  Gull  Lake  townships 
furnish  thousands  of  tons  of  grass. 

The  land  in  these  townships  is  mostly  owned  by 
Eastern  speculators,  who  obtained  it  cheaply  under  the 
first  Entry  Laws  and  the  Swamp  Land  Act.  Although 
much  of  it  is  excellent  farm  land,  these  owners  have 
held  the  price  so  high  as  to  keep  off  the  actual  settlers 
entirely.  This  they  have  been  able  to  do  by  renting 
the  lands  for  pasturage  and  haymaking,  and  getting 
enough  out  of  the  rent  to  pay  the  taxes,  and  even  in 
some- cases  a  fair  interest  on  the  first  investment,  which 
was  extremely  small. 

Over  this  tract,  a  dozen  miles  in  extent,  as  far  back 
from  the  railway  as  hay  can  be  hauled  with  profit,  are 
scattered  every  summer  the  camps  of  the  haymakers, 
and  the  low  ricks  or  "  stacks "  grow  and  accumulate 
until  they  dot  the  prairie  so  thickly  as  to  become  for 
the  time  the  distinguishing  feature  of  the  landscape-. 

There  are  at  the  station  large  hay  barns,  containing 
steam  presses,  to  which,  from  September  until  April, 
the  hay  is  hauled,  stowed  and  baled,  ready  for  ship- 
ment. /  * 

Among  those  who  were  hauling  hay  at  the  time  of 
the  great  storm  were  Dick  Jordan  and  his  small 
brother  Orr— named  after  an  Iowa  statesman — a  little 
fellow,  too  young  to  attend  school  regularly,  who  went 
along  on  pleasant  days  to  tramp  down  the  hay  in  the 
frame  of  the  big  rack. 

It  had  been  pleasant  enough  for  Orr  to  go  on  every 
trip  that  week  up  to  the  night  of  the  blizzard,  and  the 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  *  117 

day  was  so  warm  and  fine  that  Dick's  sisters,  Jeanie 
and  Carrie,  younger  than  himself  but  older  than  Orr, 
obtained  the  permission  of  their  teacher  to  go  home  at 
recess,  in  order  that  they  might  go  with  their  brothers 
for  a  ride  to  the  hay-field.  Their  mother  had  promised 
that  they  should  go  upon  the  first  warm  day  after 
sleighing  came. 

They  arrived  at  the  house  just  as  Dick  and  Orr 
drove  up  for  a  lunch,  before  going  after  their  last  load 
for  the  day,  and,  as  it  would  be  dark  before  they  could 
get  back,  the  girls,  too,  got  each  a  slice  of  bread  and 
cold  meat  to  munch  on  the  road. 

Dick  spread  two  heavy  horse-blankets,  which  were 
always  carried  in  winter  to  throw  over  his  horses  when 
standing,  upon  one  of  the  bottom  boards  of  the  rack, 
and  seated  Jeanie  and  Carrie  upon  them.  Then,  little 
dreaming  what  was  before  them,  the  brothers  and  sis- 
ters drove  swiftly  out  upon  a  new  sleigh  road,  which 
led  them  for  several  miles  over  a  prairie  almost  as  level 
as  a  barn  floor. 

The  haystacks  were  reached,  and  while  the  boys 
worked  at  their  loading,  the  little  girls  raced  about, 
tumbled  in  the  hay,  or  rolled  snowballs  as  they  pleased. 

The  load  of  hay  was  taken  from  the  bottom  of  a 
stack  around  which  the  snow  had  drifted,  thawed  and 
frozen  until  much  of  the  outside  hay  had  to  be  cut 
loose  with  an  axe  or  freed  with  a  shovel,  both  of  which 
implements  Dick  carried  for  that  purpose.  It  took 
much  longer  than  usual  to  load  upon  this  occasion,  and 
evening  was  already  drawing  on  when  finally  the  little 
girls  were  helped  upon  the  load  and  the  team  was 
turned  toward  home. 

it  had  been  mild  and  thawing  all  day,  so  mild, 


118  FRONTIFR   SKETCHES. 

indeed,  that  Dick  had  feared  that  this  would  be  theit 
last  trip  with  a  sleigh  ufitil  snow  should  come  again ; 
but  as  he  climbed  upor.  the  load  to  start  for  home,  he 
noticed  that  a  heavy  gray  bank  had  formed  across  the 
western  sky,  and  that  it  seemed  to  be  growing  thick 
overhead.    The  air  had  suddenly  become  rather  chilly. 

He  told  his  brother  and  sisters  that  it  would  snow 
before  they  got  home,  and  that  they  had  better  "  cuddle 
down  "  in  the  hay  and  throw  the  horse-blankets  over 
their  laps.  He  drove  forward  for  a  few  minutes,  urging 
the  horses  to  a  half -trot,  and  uneasily  glancing  toward 
the  dense  gray  bank,  which  rapidly  overcast  the  west 
and  north,  and  threw  a  gloom  and  cold  in  advance,  as 
it  approached. 

The  darkness  came  on  rapidly,  and  soon  the  roar  of 
a  high  wind  broke  upon  Dick's  ears. 

"  It's  a  blizzard!  "he  thought,  with  alarm,  for  he  had 
been  bred  upon  the  Northwest  Prairies,  and  knew  the 
danger  of  being  caught  out  upon  that  mowed  flat,  so 
far  from  any  houses,  for  the  nearest  dwelling  was  that 
of  a  farmer  across  Gull  Lake,  two  miles  and  a  half  to 
the  southeast. 

He  had  not  much  time  to  think  or  to  exercise  his 
fears  before  the  great  storm  was  upon  them. 

It  was  nothing  less  than  a  hurricane  from  the  begin- 
ning, and  at  the  first  fierce  gust  the  big  un wieldly  rack 
careened  with  its  load  so  that  the  little  girls  screamed 
with  fright,  and  the  horses  stopped  and  stood  turning 
their  heads  away  from  the  pelting  sleet  which  drove 
down  at  the  first  burst  of  the  storm. 

The  air  was  filled  instantly  with  the  driving  ice. 

Dick  shouted  at  the  animals  and  slapped  at  them 
with  the  lines,  but  they  could  not  be  induced  to  turn 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  119 

their  heads  against  the  storm.  They  stood  as  if  para- 
lyzed by  the  fierce  blast  of  wind  and  sleet.  Another 
and  more  furious  sweep  of  the  hurricane  came  almost 
immediately,  and  this  time  the  rack  was  lifted  com- 
pletely off  the  sled  and  overturned  with  hay  and  riders. 

Fortunately,  there  was  a  considerable  drift  of  snow 
beside  the  road,  and  neither  Dick  nor  the  younger 
children  were  hurt  by  the  fall.  They  had  all,  with  a 
common  impulse,  jumped  from  the  top  of  the  load  as 
it  careened  over,  and  so  fell,  or  rather  tumbled,  outside 
the  sweep  of  the  rack. 

As  they  scrambled  to  their  feet  the  stiff  wind  was  so 
filled  with  hay  and  snow  that  they  could  scarcely  dis- 
tinguish each  other.  The  rack  turned  bottom  side  up, 
and,  as  it  was  built  in  the  shape  of  a  "figure  four  " 
quail  trap,  held  most  of  the  hay  securely  beneath  its 
frame. 

Dick  still  held  to  one  of  the  lines,  and  the  horses 
stood  shivering  with  fear  and  cold,  for  the  temperature 
had  suddenly  dropped  far  below  the  freezing  point. 

"  Get  behind  the  rack  out  of  the  wind!  "  he  screamed 
to  the  younger  ones,  who  were  clinging  to  each  other 
in  the  endeavor  to  stand  up  before  the  raging  wind. 
They  obeyed  him,  and,  hugging  close  against  the  frame- 
work, found  themselves  protected  from  the  cutting 
blast,  but  snow  and  sleet  whirled  over  the  top  and 
about  the  ends  in  blinding  scurries. 

Dick  knew  instinctively  that  to  attempt  to  get  those 
children  on  the  bare  sled  and  to  drive  them  to  a  place 
of  safety  only  meant  certain  death  to  them  all.  In  the 
first  place,  it  would  require  all  their  strength  to  cling 
on.  Moreover,  they  could  not  endure  a  half-hour  even 
of  such  exposure  to  the  storm.    With  darkness  coming 


/? 


120  FBONTIER  SKETCHES. 

on  and  the  air  filled  with  driving  snow,  there  was  the 
barest  possibility  of  his  being  able  to  find  a  house— it 
could  only  be  found  by  running  against  it  or  into  a 
yard — even  if  he  should  be  able  to  drive  and  keep  the 
children  alive  all  night. 

His  plans  were  quickly  made,  and  a  man  twice  his 
age  could  not  have  made  them  with  greater  good  sense, 
or  have  shown  a  braver  spirit  in  their  execution. 

He  stripped  the  harness  from  his  horses  and  turned 
them  loose.  Then,  without  waiting  even  to  see  which 
direction  the  animals  took,  he  ran  to  his  brothers  and 
sisters. 

Although  it  had  been  so  warm  when  they  started 
from  home,  their  mother  had  insisted  that  Jeanie  and 
Carrie  should  dress  warmly,  and  take  cloaks  and  com- 
forters with  them.  These  they  had  put  on  before  the 
etorm  came,  and  Dick,  after  digging  in  the  hay  for  a 
few  minutes  between  the  boards  of  the  rack,  discov- 
ered the  horse-blankets  upon  which  the  children  had 
fortunately  been  sitting  when  the  load  overturned. 

While  digging  for  them  he  had  prepared  a  "  nest," 
as  he  termed  it,  for  the  three  small  ones,  and  he  now 
ordered  them  to  get  in  there  while  he  tucked  the 
blankets  around  them.  Frightened  and  hushed  by  the 
terrific  storm,  they  obeyed  without  a  murmur,  and  the 
brave  young  fellow  told  them  that  they  jtnust  "  cuddle 
close  together  and  never  peep  outside  "  till  they  heard 
him  call  them. 

He  said  that  he  would  go  and  bring  them  something 
to  eat  as  soon  as  he  could  get  back  from  Mr.  Walde- 
man's  across  Gull  Lake,  and  then  after  the  blizzard 
was  over  they  would  all  go  home. 

He  knew  the  snow  would  drift  over  them  in  a  very 


FBONTTER  SKETCHES.  121 

few  minutes,  and  believed  that  if  they  kept  quiet  their 
breath  would  warm  the  "nest"  and  no  doubt  keep 
them  alive  for  many  hours.  But  he  knew  also  that 
such  blizzards  have  been  known  to  last  with  unabated 
fury  for  two  or  three  days,  and  that  there  was  little 
likelihood  of  their  being  able  to  outlast  such  a  storm. 
Therefore,  his  only  hope  was  to  reach  help  if  possible, 
and  get  it  to  them  the  moment  it  should  be  possible  to 
breast  the  blizzard. 

Gull  Lake  lay  over  a  mile  distant,  directly  to  the 
southeast.  It  was  one  mile  and  a  half  across  it,  and  on 
the  other  side  lay  Waldeman's  ranch,  a  large  group  of 
buildings,  dwelling,  barns  and  shedding  for  stock, 
enclosed  by  a  large  yard  which  stretched  along  the  lake 
shore  for  forty  rods  or  more. 

Dick  hoped  that  he  might  be  able  to  reach  this  ranch 
and  to  find  it. 

Buttoning  his  overcoat  tightly  about  him  and  pulling 
a  "Norwegian  cap"  which  he  wore  tightly  down  over 
his  ears,  he  set  out,  going  directly  with  the  storm, 
which  came  from  the  northwest. 

He  started  at  a  stiff  run.  The  wind  nearly  lifted 
him  off  his  feet  at  every  step,  and  cut  the  backs  of  his 
legs  and  the  sides  of  his  cheeks  icily. 

He  soon  found  it  impossible  to  tell  whether  he  was 
going  directly  with  the  wind  or  not,  as  it  blew  in 
changeful  gusts  and  whirled  violently  about  him.  But 
there  was  a  mile  of  lake  shore  in  front,  and  he  reached 
it  at  length  and  found  himself  upon  the  ice. 

It  had  now  grown  dark,  and  amidst  the  pitchy 
blackness  of  night  and  the  thick  drift  of  snow  he  could 
no  longer  make  ..use  of  his  eyes.  In  fact,  he  was 
obliged  to  shut  them  and  allow  himself  to  be  carried 


122  FKONTIEK   SKETCHES. 

over  the  ice  by  the  wind.  A  part  of  the  time  he  was 
able  to  keep  his  feet,  but  often  he  was  thrown  forward 
and  actually  blown  over  the  rough  ice  for  rods.  The 
skirt  of  his  overcoat  occasionally  blew  over  his  head, 
and  the  bitter  wind  pierced  every  part  of  his  body. 

It  was  a  rough  and  terrible  experience  getting  across 
the  lake,  and  he  was  glad  he  had  not  attempted  to  take 
his  brother  and  sisters  with  him. 

When  he  at  length  reached  the  southern  bank,  he 
was  so  chilled  and  exhausted  that  he  could  scarcely 
keep  his  feet  at  all.  The  bank  was  high  at  the  point 
where  he  reached  it,  and  he  knew  it  could  not  be 
opposite  the  ranch  fence,  as  the  high  bank  was  west  of 
that.  So  he  turned,  and  alternately  walked  and 
crawled  eastward,  guided  in  that  direction  by  the  wind. 

For  a  long  time  he  forced  his  way  along  the  edge  of 
the  ice,  which  was  swept  bare,  guided  by  the  sense  of 
feeling  and  the  direction  of  the  wind,  but  at  length  he 
stumbled  against  something  and  joyfully  discovered  it 
to  be  a  fence. 

As  it  afterward  proved,  it  was  an  extension  of  the 
cattle-yard,  a  corner  of  which  was  built  down  into  the 
edge  of  the  lake  to  afford  water  for  the  stock,  and  had 
he  missed  it  by  even  a  few  feet  he  would  uudoubtedly 
have  perished. 

The  discovery  of  it  gave  him  new  life  at  once  and 
aroused  all  his  faculties.  He  climbed  over  the  fence  so 
as  to  get  inside  the  yard,  and  then,  by  feeling,  followed 
it  until  he  came  to  a  connection  with  the  cattle-sheds. 

Once  in  the  shelter  of  these,  he  whipped  his  numbed 
arms  and  stamped  his  chilled  feet  until  circulation  was 
partly  restored,  then  felt  his  way  along  to  the  barn,  and 
at  length  managed  to  reach  the  ranch  dwelling,  guided 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES  123 

by  the  glimmer  of  a  light  which  he  could  see  through 
the  storm. 

He  was  welcomed  and  warmed  and  fed,  and  promised 
that  by  every  possible  effort  that  could  be  made  the 
men  should  help  him  to  rescue  his  brother  and  sisters 
when  daylight  came. 

Dick  found  that  he  had  escaped  with  only  a  slight 
frosting  of  his  face  and  fingers,  but  his  anguish  on 
account  of  the  little  ones  he  had  left  buried  in  the  hay 
was  intense.  He  did  not  sleep  at  all,  but  walked  the 
floor  of  the  ranch  kitchen,  where  he  was  allowed  to 
keep  a  roaring  fire  all  night.  Every  few  moments  he 
would  go  to  the  windows,  scratch  the  frost,  and 
endeavor  to  peer  out  into  the  storm. 

He  could  gather  no  encouragement  until  daylight, 
when  he  discovered  that  the  snow  was  no  longer  fall- 
ing, and  that  the  sky  would  soon  be  clear. 

He  roused  the  ranch  hands  at  once,  as  two  of  them 
had  agreed  to  go  with  him. 

In  a  short  time  the  men  were  up.  Some  hot  coffee 
was  drunk,  a  jug  of  it  was  filled  from  the  pot,  and  a 
sharp-shod  team  was  harnessed.  The  horses  were 
blindfolded,  their  heads  wrapped  in  blankets  to  protect 
them  from  the  blinding  drift  which  was  still  driving 
hard  from  the  northwest. 

This  team  was  hitched  to  a  double  sleigh  filled  with 
robes  and  wraps.  Then,  muffling  themselves  in  the 
bottom  of  the  box,  the  party  set  out  across  the  lake  in 
the  very  teeth  of  the  wind. 

The  horses  were  old  and  steady,  and,  after  some 
snorting  and  tossing  of  the  heads,  as  a  protest  against 
the  novelty  of  complete  "  blinds,"  took  a  steady  hard 
trot  over  the  corrugated  ice. 


134  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

On  reaching  the  farther  shore  of  the  lake  and 
ascending  to  the  prairie,  Dick,  with  his  head  completely 
muffled  to  the  eyes,  took  a  standing  position  and, 
bracing  himself,  directed  the  movements  of  the  driver. 
The  short  distance  of  a  mile  and  the  steady  direction 
of  the  wind  enabled  him  to  hit  the  hay-road  at  a  point 
so  close  to  the  overturned  rack  that  he  caught  sight  of 
the  top  of  it  as  they  were  passing  some  rods  distant. 

A  moment  later  they  had  halted  and  tied  the  team, 
and  Dick  had  pointed  out  the  spot  where  his  compan- 
ions were  to  dig.  Then,  utterly  overcome,  he  threw 
himself  upon  the  drift  and  buried  his  face  in  his  arms. 
His  grief  and  suspense  at  that  moment  were  almost 
beyond  endurance,  He  had  no  idea  that  the  children 
could  have  survived  such  a  fearful  night.  But  five 
minutes  of  silent  digging  occupied  his  companions,  and 
at  the  end  of  that  time  both  of  them  gave  a  trium- 
phant shout. 

They  had  uncovered  the  nest  and  a  cloud  of  steam 
rose  up  from  the  blankets.  Dick  was  on  his  feet 
instantly.  A  moment  later  the  three  young  Jordans 
were  dragged  forth,  alive,  but  stupid  with  cold  and  a 
drowsiness  which  would  not  have  left  them  alive  many 
hours  longer.  Yet  they  had  escaped  any  serious  frost- 
bite, and  a  dexterous  rubbing,  shaking  and  jouncing 
restored  their  circulation  and  their  senses.  They  were 
bundled  into  the  sleigh  amid  robes  and  comforters,  and, 
despite  the  severity  of  the  weather  and  the  drifting 
snow,  were  taken  immediately  toward  home,  where 
their  welcome  must  be  imagined 

One  of  Dick's  horses  perished  in  the  storm,  but  the 
other  turned  up  alive  and  well  the  next  day  at  a  far- 
mer's stables  twelve  miles  south  of  Gull  Lake. 


XIL 

A  FORTUNATE  CYCLONE. 

"  Ben  down  to  'Squire  Brennan's,  Mose  % " 

The  speaker  was  a  sturdy  farmer,  who  stood  mop« 
ping  the  moisture  from  his  brow  just  outside  the  lane 
fence  which  divided  his  snug  farm  from  that  of  his 
nearest  neighbor. 

Moses  Bently  drew  the  reins  tightly  across  the  neck 
of  his  dripping  horse,  and  with  a  sharp  "Whoa!" 
flung  himself  out  of  the  saddle. 

"  Yes,"  said  he  ;  "  I've  ben  thar ;"  and  pulling  a 
huge  bandanna  from  his  pocket,  he  took  off  his  hat 
and  followed  the  example  of  his  neighbor  across  the 
fence. 

"  Jones,"  exclaimed  he,  with  vehemence,  "  but  ain't 
this  a  scorcher  ?  Never  seed  sech  hot  weather  in  the 
last  of  August.  Cuttin'  up  corn,  air  ye  %  Bless  me, 
man !  you'll  drop  fust  ye  know,  an'  hev  to  be  laid  in 
the  shade." 

"  Not's  long's  I  can  keep  up  a  sweat,"  replied  Jones, 
coming  forward  from  the  corn  shocks  and  leaning 
upon  the  fence.  "  But  say,  Mose,  what's  that  rumpus 
'bout  over  in  your  neighborhood?  What's  the  row 
'tween  Blake  an'  Miller,  anyhow  %  I  hear  they've  ben 
down  to  Brennan's  lawin'  it  to-day." 

"Yaas,"  returned  Moses,  "  they've  ben  thar  lawin' 
it,  an'  they're  likely  to  keep  on  lawin'  to  the  end  o' 
ther  days.  But  mercy,  Jones  1  I  can't  stand  in  this 
hot  sun  tellin'  ye  'bout  it." 

"  Come  under  the  shadder  o'  this  plum-tree  here," 

m 


126  FRONTIER  SKETCHES. 

walking  toward  a  large  branching  plum  which  stood, 
loaded  with  fruit,  just  inside  the  fence.  "  Here's  a 
good  place  to  set  down  an*  cool  yerself  off,"  he  added, 
as  Mose  finished  tying  his  animal  and  climbed  over  the 
fence. 

"  Yaas,"  said  Moses,  again,  as  he  seated  himself  beside 
Jones  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  lifted  his  broad-brimmed 
straw  hat  and  drew  one  hickory  shirt  sleeve  across  his 
beady  forehead.  "  Yaas,  they'll  law  it  now  s'  long's 
they  live,  an'  in  the  end  all  they'll  have'll  go  to  pay  up 
costs.  I  left  their  lawyers  argyin5  'fore  Squire  Br  en- 
nan,  an'  a  picked  jury  that  didn't  know  nothin'  'bout 
the  case,  nor  nothin'  'bout  anything  else  if  I'm  any 
judge ;  jest  like  most  6'  the  men  that  gets  on  juries, 
though ;  lot  o'  loafers,  reg'lar  nuisances,  that's  just  got 
pride  'nough  t'  keep  'em  out  o'  the  poorhouse. 

"  Squire  Brennan  did  his  best,  jest  as  he  al'ays  does, 
to  get  'em  to  settle ;  but  bless  ye !  'twa'n't  any  use. 
They're  madder  'n  hornets,  both  of  'em.  I  went  down 
as  a  witness,  but  what  I  knew  didn't  amount  to 
nothin'  'n'  I  jest  got  disgusted  with  their  wranglin', 
an'  when  they  was  done  with  me  I  come  away  an," — 

"  But  what's  it  all  about  % "  broke  in  Jones.  "Air 
they  fightin'  'bout  that  new  survey  %  " 

"  Waal,  yaas,  that's  at  the  bottom  of  it,  but  they 
wouldn't  had  no  trouble  'bout  that,  I  guess,  if  't  hadn't 
been  for  them  harvest-apple  trees  on  Blake's  line,  that 
he  set  out  when  he  first  moved  onto  the  place.  There's 
only  five  or  six  of  em,  and  they  don't  bear  a  great 
sight  of  apples,  either ;  but  they're  good,  what  there  is 
of  'em,  an'  dead  ripe  now.  You  see,  Blake  sot  'em  out 
right  on  his  south  line,  or  jest  as  near  as  he  could,  an' 
not  have  'em  grow  so's  to  spread  acrost.    "Wall,  the 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  127 

Gov'ment  surveyors  was  jest  as  drunk  when  they  run 
the  lines  over  Section  Twelve  as  they  was  when  they 
laid  out  the  rest  o'  this  township,  an'  so  this  new  sur- 
vey sets  them  apple-trees  jest  inside  Miller's  north 
line. 

"There  ain't  any  question,  of  course,"  continued 
Moses,  "  not  the  least  sprinklin'  o'  doubt  that  Miller's 
got  a  legal  right  to  them  apple-trees,  ef  the  last  survey 
is  c'rect,  an'  he's  mean  enough — which  it  seems  he  is — 
to  claim  'em.  But  it  seems  that  Blake  hadn't  no  idea 
that  Miller  would  lay  any  claim  to  the  apples,  or  that 
he  re'ly  intended  to  have  the  line-fence  sot  over,  bein' 
as  'twas  only  a,  matter  or  two  feet  or  so,  an'  'specially 
so  long's  there  was  a  chance  to  dispute  the  last  lay-out 
an'  set  up  the  old  Gov'ment  one  agin. 

"The  new  survey,  ye  know,  was  made  last  June,  an' 
the  change  o'  lines  'tween  Blake  an'  Miller  was  so 
leetle  that  Blake  never  thought  o'  speakin'  of  it,  only 
jest  in  a  jokin'  way.  Ye  see,  the  west  line  o'  Section 
Twelve  was  changed  much  as  three  rods ;  but  as  the 
odds  was  all  in  favor  of  both  of  'em,  an'  had  to  come 
out  o'  the  public  road,  which  hadn't  ben  used  but  four 
years,  they  both  felt  toler'ble  good  over  it. 

"  But  as  I  was  sayin',  Blake  hadn't  no  idea  that 
Miller'd  make  trouble  about  the  middle  line,  as  there 
was  a  good  solid  fence  that  they'd  both  built  atween 
'em ;  but  when  his  apples  got  ripe,  he  went  down  one 
day  an'  begun  pickin'  some  off'm  the  earliest  tree. 
An'  while  he  was  a-pickin'  of  'em,  here  comes  one  o' 
Miller's  boys,  with  a  bag  slung  over  his  arm,  an'  climbs 
over  the  fence. 

" '  'Mornin',  Joe ! '  says  Blake,  unsuspectin'  as  could 
be.    i  Got  through  harvestin'  % ? 


tf$  FRONTIER    SKETCHES;-- 

Ui  Yes/  says  Joe.  'Thought  we'd  better  git  mw& 
o'  these  apples,  now  they're  gittin'  ripe.  Pop  says  they 
belong  to  him  now,  but  you  can  have  half  of  'em  this 
year,  bein*  as  you  put  out  the  trees ;  or  he'll  pay  ye  for 
your  trouble  in  settin*  'em  oat.' 

"'He  will,  hay  V  snaps  Blake,  settin' down 'his  pail 
an'  starin'  at  young  Joe  sarcastical  like.  '  Your  dad's 
a  mighty  generous  fellow,  aint  he,  now  ?  He'll  give 
me  half  the  apples !  Give  'em  to  me,  will  he  1  "Waal, 
I  guess  he  will,  for  I  sh'll  take  'em,  the  whole  of  'em, 
not  only"  this  year,  but  ev'ry  year,  and  don't  ye  forget 
that  now,  sonny  ! ' 

" At  that,  Joe,  he  kinder  bridled  up  a  leetle.  '  I  guess 
my  father's  got  a  right  in  the  Ian','  says  he.  'An'  he 
told  me  to  pick  some  o'  these  apples,  an'  I'm  goin'  to 
take  some  of  'em  home  now,'  and  eyin'  Blake  kind  o' 
cautious-like,  he  reached  up  for  a  big  yaller  one  that 
hung  a-tempting  his  jaws  just  above  his  head. 

" '  Don't  you  touch  that ! '  yells  Blake,  starting  for 
him  in  a  way  that  made  the  boy  dodge  from  under  the 
tree  an'  scramble  for  dear  life  over  the  fence. 

"  Waal,  of  course  Miller  was  madder  'n  a  hornet,  an3 
so,  with  his  new  survey  back  of  him,  he  goes  down  tc 
Squire  Brennan's  and  sues  Blake  for  trespass,  an'  sence 
that  time  each  one  of  'em's  had  one  o'  their  boys 
watchm;  them  apples,  day  an'  night,  to  see  't  other'n 
didn't  steal  'em.  They  mount  guard  out  there  like  a 
couple  o'  roosters,  one  on  one  side  the  fence  an'  the 
other  on  t'other.  One  of  'em's  afraid  to  touch  iha 
apples,  an'  the  other  dasn't." 

"  What'll  be  the  outcome,  think  ? "  asked  Jones,  as 
Moses  paused  in  his  narrative,  and  again  made  use  of 
the  huge  bandanna. 


FRONTIER   SKETCHES.  129 

"  The  outcome  ?  Bless  you,  man,  there  won't  be  no 
outcome  to  it.  Squire  Brennan  can't  decide  the  case, 
an'  if  he  did,  'twouldn't  amount  to  nothin',  an'  no 
decidin'  ever  will  so  long's  there's  a  higher  court  to 
carry  the  thing  through,  an' then  they'll  take  a  fresh 
start  an'  go  through  agin.  This  is  a  case,  ye  see,  for 
trespass,  but  how're  they  goin'  to  make  trespass  out  of 
it  till  they  can  prove  who  the  land  belongs  to  ? " 

"  I  see,"  said  Jones  ;  "  goin'  to  be  a  nice  wrangle, 
ain't  it?" 

"  I  s'h'd  say  so,"  muttered  Moses.  "  But,  Jones," 
he  added,  getting  upon  his  feet,  "I  must  be  goin'. 
Do  you  see  that  black  cloud  off  in  the  southwest? 
Shouldn't  wonder  if  we'd  git  another  reg'lar  old  twister 
when  that  comes  up,  an  it's  a-comin',  too." 

"  Thought  I  heard  it  thunderin'  an'  kind  o'  rumblin 
somewhar  a  bit  ago,"  said  Jones,  rising.  "  I'm  'fraid 
you're  right,  Mose,  and  I  don't  know  but  it  is  a  good 
plan  for  a  feller  to  be  gettin'  around  closest  to  his 
suller." 

"  Yaas,"  returned  Moses.  "  My  wife  and  the  young 
ones  have  jest  about  half -lived  in  my  dug-out  this  sum- 
mer. Every  time  they  see  a  cloud,  they  skedaddle  for 
i  the  house  of  refuge,'  as  Sarah  calls  it." 

"  Beats  all  how  many  o'  them  tornadoes  goes  ragin' 
over  this  country  lately,"  said  Jones;  "'pears  like  a 
martaint  safe  nowheres,"  and  bidding  each  other  good- 
day.  the  two  men  separated. 


"  Twister,"  as  a  word  in  Western  parlance,  has 
atc«hied  an  entirely  new  signification  within  the  last 
two  years,  especially  throughout  the  now  famous  storm 


130  FRONTIER    SKETCHES. 

belt  extending  from  central  Kansas  in  a  northwesterly- 
direction  beyond  tlie  southern  boundary  of  Minnesota. 

The  prevalence  of  those  terrible  storms  known  as 
tornadoes,  cyclones,  and  throughout  this  region  as 
"  twisters,"  has  become  so  alarming  of  late  that  in 
some  of  the  counties  of  Iowa  the  citizens  take  refuge 
in  their  cellars  during  the  summer  season  at  the  appear- 
ance of  every  dark  and  threatening  cloud. 

In  this  region  a  large  proportion  of  the  farmers  and 
many  of  the  townspeople  dig  out-of-door  cellars,  or 
"under-ground  houses,"  in  which  to  shelter  themselves 
from  the  violence  of  these  atmospheric  disturbances. 

On  nearmg  one  of  their  dwellings,  one  notices,  but  a 
few  yards  to  one  side,  a  heaped-up  mound  of  earth, 
with  an  opening  in  one  end  disclosing  the  frame-work 
and  top  of  a  heavy  door,  tli8  bottom  of  which  is 
reached  by  a  flight  of  steps  cut  into  the  earth  in  front . 
The  whole  is  constructed  much  after  the  pattern  of  the 
summer  milk-house  of  more  Eastern  farmers,  and 
indeed,  most  of  the  dug-outs  are  used  for  that  purpose 
also. 

The  genuine  tornado,  or  "  twister," — the  one  which 
tears  up  everything  in  its  track, — is  generally  preceded 
by  a  short  time  of  hot,  " muggy"  weather,  and  at 
such  times,  when  the  feather-edged,  dark-centred 
nimbus  floats  lazily  a  mile  or  two  above  the  farmer's 
head,  small  spiral-shaped  projections  are  often  seen 
suddenly  darting  downward  from  their  centres,  curl- 
ing, twisting,  steadily  shooting  ahead,  sometimes 
almost  reaching  the  earth.  Then,  with  a  peculiar, 
writhing  motion,  these  snake-like  columns  of  vapor 
break  up  into  little  sections,  or  separate  puffs,  and 
disappear  as  quickly  as  they  were  formed. 


FRONTIER  SKETCHES.  131 

Sometimes  a  dozen  or  more  may  be  seen  at  a  single 
glance.  On  such  days  it  is  necessary  to  be  on  the  look- 
out, and  if  the  cloud  above  one  of  those  dark  columns 
grows  suddenly  black  and  emits  flashes  of  lightning, 
followed  by  the  rumble  of  thunder,  the  " dug-out"  is 
the  only  safe  retreat. 

About  three  o'clock  on  the  particular  afternoon  and 
near  the  locality  of  which  we  write,  the  thermometer 
at  various  places  indicated  98°  Fahrenheit  in  the 
shade,  and  away  towards  the  horizon  in  the  south  and 
west  could  be  seen  piled-up  masses  of  silver-tinted 
thunder-clouds,  their  lowering  bases  sinning  almost 
out  of  sight  behind  the  distant  woods  and  fields. 

"  My  !  what  whoppin'  old  thunder-heads  !  "  thought 
Billings  Blake,  as  he  sat  sweltering  beneath  the  shade 
of  one  of  the  disputed  apple-trees ;  "  guess  Clem 
Miller'll  get  sick  of  his  bargain  sittin'  over  there  on 
the  south  side  of  the  fence.  He  dasn't  come  over  here, 
though,"  he  soliloquized,  "  'cause  he  knows  I  c'n  lick 
'im  the  best  day  he  ever  saw,  an'  he  knows  I  will,  too, 
if  he  comes." 

Clem  did  have  a  pretty  hard  place,  to  be  sure ;  for, 
to  tell  the  truth,  he  was  afraid  of  young  °Blake,  and 
so,  as  there  were  no  trees  on  his  side,  he  was  obliged 
to  content  himself  with  the  small  shelter  afforded  by 
the  green  corn-stalks  which  grew  beside  the  fence. 

"  I  wish  pa'd  never  made  any  row  'bout  these  misera- 
ble old  apple-trees,"  he  grumbled,  as  he  held  his  broad- 
brimmed  hat  high  over  his  head  in  order  to  shelter 
himself  from  the  scorching  rays  which  would  find  their 
way  down  through  the  corn  leaves ;  "  I  don't  want  to 
be  melted  into  taller  a-watching  them  old  apples  that'll 


132  FRONTIER   SKETCHES. 

rot  in  two  days  after  they're  picked.  I  don't  like  the 
looks  of  them  clouds,"  he  added,  a  moment  later. 

"Haloo,  Clem!" 

Could  He  believe  his  ears  ?  Yes,  it  was  surely  young 
Billings  Blake  calling  him. 

"  Want's  me  to  come  over  there,  and  then  lick  me," 
growled  Clem. 

"  I  say,  Clem,"  bawled  young  Blake  again.  "  Clem, 
jest  get  up  an'  look  over  the  hill  yender.  I  believe 
there's  a  twister  a-comin'." 

Clem  got  up  and  looked. 

"'Tis  sure  enough,  Bill,"  he  answered.  "Do  ye 
reckon  it  will  come  this  way  sure  ?  " 

•'  Dun  no,"  said  Billings.  "  I  say,  Clem,  come  over 
here  an'  let's  watch  the  thing ! " 

It  is  curious  how  a  common  danger  transforms  the 
bitterest  enemies  into  the  best  of  friends.-  Clem  got 
over  the  fence  without  the  slightest  hesitation,  and  in 
a  moment  the  two  boys,  who  just  before  would  not 
have  deigned  to  speak  to  each  other,  stood  together, 
gazing  in  common  fear  and  wonder  upon  a  scene  that 
once  witnessed  is  never  forgotten. 

Away  to  the  southwest,  several  of  those  silvery- 
edged,  harmless-looking  clouds  had  grown  together, 
and  were  rapidly  approaching.  Their  sun-tinted  col- 
umns had  suddenly  changed  color,  and,  black  and 
angry,  they  were  tumbling  together  in  ugly  broken 
masses,  while  forks  of  jagged  lightning  darted  across 
their  lowering  sides,  and  the  distant  growl  of  thunder 
could  be  distinctly  heard. 

The  wind  sprang  up,  and  began  to  stir  the  leaves  of 
the  apple-trees,  and  to  rustle  the  broad  blades  of  corn, 
while  black  masses  of  vapor  swept  hurriedly  across  the 


FEONTIEK    SKETCHES.  l$$ 

sky,  obscuring  the  sun,  and  hurling  themselves  into  the 
very  midst  of  the  huge  pile,  thus  constantly  swelling 
its  already  enormous  proportions. 

"  Mercy !  "  said  Clem,  catching  at  his  hat  as  a  fresh 
gust  of  wind  swept  past.  "  Mercy  !  Bill,  the  wind's  a- 
blowin'  from  ev'ry  direction,  an'  jest  look  at  them 
clouds ;  they're  a-comin'  from  every  way,  an'  goin'  every 
where.     Don't  ye  think  we'd  better  git  for  shelter  ?  " 

"Where  sh'll  we  go,  Clem,  to  better  ourselves?" 
asked  his  companion.  "  Ye  can't  tell  where  she'll  strike 
the  hardest,  and  fer  one,  I'd  rather  be  in  the  open 
field  than  in  the  woods  when  there's  a  hurricane  comin'. 
But  jest  look  at  'er." 

Even  as  he  spoke,  the  roar  of  the  approaching  hurri- 
cane drowned  his  voice,  and  a  round  black  column, 
darting  down  from  the  center  of  the  hurrying  mass, 
struck  the  timber  across  the  hill  with  a  roar  and  a  crash 
that  was  fairly  deafening. 

"  Run,  Clem  !  Git  for  the  field  !  "  yelled  Bill ;  and 
the  frightened  boys  scurried  away  toward  the  north, 
and  the  fifty  yards'  run  which  they  were  then  able  to 
make  probably  saved  their  lives. 

On  came  the  twisting,  writhing  storm,  tearing  the 
earth,  trees,  grain  and  fences  in  its  track,  and  filling 
the  air  with  a  hideous  din.  Swiftly  as  the  boys  ran, 
they  were  not  fleet-footed  enough  to  escape  the  effect 
of  the  fearful  side  wind  which  accompanied  the  whirl- 
ing cloud. 

Clem  felt  his  legs  suddenly  wrenched  from  under  him, 
and  in  a  trice  found  himself  turning  the  most  astonish- 
ing summersaults  he  had  ever  dreamed  of.  His  hat 
and  shirt  were  literally  torn  away  from  him,  and  a 
moment  later,  scratched,  bruised,    and   lacerated  tey 


164  FRONTIER   SKETCffiHCS. 

the  corn  stubs  over  which  he  had  been  tumbled,  he 
found  himself  lying  on  his  back  in  a  deep,  dead  furrow, 
with  six  inches  of  muddy   water  slushing  around  him. 

Bill  had  fared  but  little  better,  as,  spattered  with 
mud  and  bleeding  from  half-a-dozen  bruises,  he  picked 
himself  up  from  between  two  corn  rows,  where  he  had 
been  carried  bodily. 

"  We  are  in  a  bad  fix,  sure,"  said  Bill.  "  But  jest 
look  down  yonder  in  the  track  of  'er,  will  ye  ?  There's 
a  strip  forty  rods  wide  where  there  aintathing  standin', 
an'  the  ground's  all  ploughed  ready  for  winter  wheat. 
Yes,  an' — an' — an' — can  I  believe  my  eyes — the  apple 
trees  are  gone!" 

" If  they  haint !  "  answered  Clem.  "Hurrah,  Bill! 
your  dad  an'  mine'll  quit  their  quarrellm'  now,  won't 
they,  an'  we'll  all  be  friends  an  hunt  ducks  together 
like  we  used  to  % " 


HUNTING  STORIES 


FRANK  W.  CALKINS 


CHICAGO. 

M.  A.  DONOHUE  &  CO. 
407-429  Dearborn  St. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE. 

I.    Trapped  by  Traveling  Mountain 5 

II.    The  Horn-Hunter's  Adventure 19 

III.  A  Frightened  Herd 26 

IV.  In  the  Bed  River  Country 34 

V.    The  Bird-Catcher's  Adventure 44 

VI.    A  Fish  Story. 58 

VII.    A  Deadly  Encounter 62 

VIII.    In  the  Catche  Creek  Woods 69 

IX.    Penned  in  with  a  Grizzly 80 

X.    Caught 89 

XI.    A  Fight  with  Wolves 97 

XII.    In  the  Front  of  a  Stampede... , 106 

XIII.  In  Nick  of  Time 117 

XIV.  Chased 128 

XV.    A  Dangerous  Resemblance 135 


HUNTING    STORIES. 

i. 

TRAPPED  BY  "  TRAVELING  MOUNTAIN." 

It  was  when  we — my  brother  Judson,  Jack  Imly 
and  I — were  staying  one  spring  at  my  father's  cattle 
ranch  in  Nevada  that  the  curious  and  perilous  advent- 
ure I  am  about  to  tell  happened  to  us. 

It  all  came  of  Jack's  getting  acquainted  with 
Washoe  Pete,  a  half-breed  cow-boy  employed  on  the 
ranch,  and  "  worming  "  out  of  him  curious  information 
about  the  country  where  his  tribe  of  Indians  lived  and 
hunted. 

Jack  "pumped"  every  new  acquaintance.  More- 
over, he  was  an  inveterate  curiosity  hunter,  and  was 
then  collecting  f '  specimens  "  to  present  to  the  museum 
of  the  university  at  Sacramento,  where  we  had  been 
students.  His  special  pursuit  was  fossils  and  small 
animals,  birds  and  insects.  He  was  a  good  taxider- 
mist, and  while  at  the  ranch  he  secured  and  mounted  a 
number  of  rare  specimens  of  batrachians,  and  also  of  a 
queer  little  piping  bird  that  was  new  to  us. 

From  Washoe  Pete  he  obtained  a  piece  of  intelli- 
gence that  excited  him  greatly.  Pete  told  him  of  a 
traveling  mountain  of  sand  that  shifted  about  in  the 
great  basin  country  near  the  Humboldt  Mountains. 
This  mountain  was,  he  said,  steadily  but  slowly  moving 
across  the  basin  plains,  driven  eastward  by  the  prevail' 
ing  winds. 


6  HUNTING  STORIES. 

It  had  moved  a  considerable  distance  within  the 
memory  of  the  old  men  of  his  tribe,  and  had  stopped 
for  nothing.  It  had  crossed  hills,  canons  and  sage 
plains  with  equal  ease  and  speed.  It  sang  a  low, 
mournful  song,  that  could  be  heard  night  and  day,  and 
it  had  a  great  conical  hole,  like  the  crater  of  a  volcano, 
Jack  explained,  in  its  top.  Whoever  passed  over  the 
rim  into  the  basin,  or  crater,  was  immediately  engulfed 
by  the  sands,  and  sank  out  of  sight,  to  be  seen  no 
more. 

Several  Washoe  Indians  had,  according  to  Pete,  paid 
the  penalty  of  their  lives  for  daring  the  experiment  of 
attempting  to  cross  the  mountain-top. 

Furthermore,  he  said,  on  the  east  side  was  a  canon- 
stream  fed  by  the  Humboldts  that  flowed  down  to  the 
sand  mountain,  and  was  "  drunk  up  "  at  its  base  —  as 
other  Nevada  streams  are  by  the  sands  of  the  Great 
Basin.  In  the  rocky  walls  of  the  stream  were  great 
fissures  and  caves,  where,  according  to  the  Indian 
folk-lore,  dwelt  the  spirits  that  sang  in  the  mountain. 

This  was  Jack's  version  of  Pete's  story  translated 
from  the  half-breed's  cowboy-Indian  dialect.  Of 
course,  when  this  Indian  superstition  was  added  to  the 
story,  we  were  disposed  to  make  a  considerable  dis- 
count on  the  rest  of  Pete's  account  of  this  wonderful 
mountain;  but  there  seemed  to  be  enough  in  it  to 
arouse  curiosity,  and  it  certainly  impelled  us  to  inves- 
tigate it. 

As  the  mountain  was  said  to  be  but  little  more  than 
one  hundred  miles  from  the  ranch,  we  finally  concluded 
to  go  down  and  explore  this  curious  phenomenon, 
and  had  no  difficulty  in  persuading  the  ranch  superin- 
tendent, for  neither  father  nor  any  other  members  of 


HUNTING    STORIES.  7 

the  family  ever  lived  there,  to  let  us  make  the  trip. 
He  allowed  us  to  select  three  ridden  ponies,  a  pair  of 
burros  for  pack  purposes,  and  to  take  Washoe  Pete, 
with  his  riding  pony,  for  a  guide. 

We  completed  our  preparations  on  the  morning  of 
the  5th  of  May,  and  set  out  in  the  gayest  spirits  imag- 
inable. We  had  the  burros  well  "  packed "  with 
blankets,  flour,  bacon,  coffee,  canned  fruit  and  cooking 
utensils. 

We  found  it  hot  and  disagreeable  work  riding  over 
the  dry  sand  and  alkali  plains,  and  through  the  belts 
of  sage  and  grease- wood  ;  but  Pete  proved  a  trustworthy 
guide,  and  at  night  we  always  camped  near  a  plen- 
tiful supply  of  water,  brackish  and  unpalatable,  how- 
ever, until  boiled,  when  it  made  very  good  coffee. 

We  had  guns  and  ammunition,  but  there  was  no 
game  in  the  country  save  jack-rabbits  and  sage  hens, 
and  these  were  not  fit  to  eat  at  that  time  of  the  year. 

The  Humboldts  were  in  sight  most  of  the  time,  loom- 
ing up  in  the  east,  and  the  snow,  which  had  not  melted 
off  their  crests  and  out  of  their  gulches,  lay  in  white 
patches  and  streaks  about  their  tops. 

About  noon  on  the  fifth  day  we  were  jogging  along 
over  a  hot,  shimmering  alkali  flat,  when  Pete,  who 
was  riding  ahead,  halted,  and  pointed  away  in  the  dis- 
tance to  a  great  yellowish,  gray  mound  that  showed 
indistinct  through  the  haze. 

"That  him!'3  said  he.  "He  tlavel  (travel)  that 
way,"  with  a  sweep  of  his  hand  off  to  the  left.  "My 
peop  (  people)  live  'way  yonda  now,'*  and  he  pointed 
again,  this  time  to  the  right  of  the  mound. 

We  watched,  with  curiosity,  "  Traveling  Mountain," 
as  we  had  named  it  already,    X)n  one  side  of  the  moun~ 


8  HUNTING   STOKIES. 

tain  the  country  was  a  barren  plain,  broken  only  by 
heaps  of  sand  and  by  gullies,  out  of  which  these  mounds 
seemed  to  have  been  scooped. 

We  neared  the  base  of  the  sand  mountain  at  about 
four  o'clock,  and  found  before  us  a  great  oblong  hill 
that  was,  as  near  as  could  be  judged  from  our  point  of 
view,  some  four  or  five  hundred  feet  high,  and  perhaps 
three  miles  in  length — not  much  of  a  mountain,  but  an 
oblong,  irregular  sand  bluff,  with  curious  serrated 
ridges  running  from  the  top  down  nearly  to  the  base, 
where  they  seemed  to  blend  together. 

There  was  no  air  stirring  at  this  time,  and,  of  course, 
no  sand  moving,  but  I  remember  a  distinct  feeling,  that 
we  boys  all  spoke  of,  that  the  big  mound  looked  all 
ready  to  move  ;  that  it  had  an  air  about  it  of  seeming 
to  be  merely  resting. 

However,  we  did  not  stop  long  that  evening  to  view 
the  mountain ;  it  was  hot,  dry,  and  hard  traveling,  and 
as  our  ponies'  and  burros'  small,  hard  hoofs  sank  deep 
into  the  sand,  Pete  said  we  must  keep  them  going,  in 
order  to  get  around  and  reach  the  "  cave  canon,"  where 
we  should  find  water  and  a  cool  camping  spot,  and 
where,  also,  there  was  feed  for  the  animals. 

We  found  the  country  quite  different  when  we  nad 
got  around  on  the  opposite  side,  the  side  facing  the 
Humboldts ;  it  was  rough  and  broken  by  canons,  in 
several  of  which,  as  we  scrambled  down  and  through 
them,  we  saw  pools  of  brackish  water. 

At  first  we  were  compelled  to  make  a  considerable 
detour  away  from  the  sand  mountain,  but  at  dusk  we 
came  back  near  to  it  again,  above  the  mouth  of  a  rocky 
canon,  through  which  ran  the  stream  that  Pete  had 


/* 


HUNTING    6T0EIES.  9 

mentioned,  where  the  singing  spirits  were  supposed  to 
dwell. 

Below  us  in  the  gray  dusk  we  could  see  the  big 
mound  stretching  diagonally  across  the  canon,  and 
Pete  told  us  the  water  was  backed  up  below,  and 
soaked  into  the  sands  of  the  mountain  by  degrees. 

The  soil  of  the  canon  was  a  hard-baked,  red  clay. 
Clumps  of  grease-wood  grew  here  and  there  and 
in  patches  a  short,  thin,  wiry  grass,  that  was 
already  nearly  burned  dry  by -the  summer  heat,  though 
it  offered  the  best  of  feed  to  our  close-cropping  ponies 
and  burros. 

"We  found  the  water  the  best  we  had  met  on  the  trip, 
and  had  a  pleasant  camp  that  night,  as  the  weather  in 
this  region  is  always  cool  between  sunset  and  sunrise. 

The  next  morning  we-were  up  at  daylight,  and  ready 
to  begin  explorations.  We  joked  Pete  about  the 
spirits,  and  asked  where  the  caves  were  in  which  they 
lived,  and  also  why  they  had  not  "  turned  up  "  during 
the  night ;  but  the  half-breed  had  suddenly  grown 
reticent,  and  refused  to  answer  our  badinage.  In  fact, 
he  began  to  act  very  queerly. 

After  repicketing  the  ponies  ana  burros  upon  new 
ground,  while  we  boys  were  preparing  breakfast,  Pete 
wandered  up  through  the  gap  at  the  mouth  of  which 
we  were  camped,  and  stood  for  some  time  upon  a  high, 
rocky  point  overlooking  the  country  to  the  northeast. 

When  he  came  down,  he  announced  that  he  had 
seen  a  smoke  '"way  off" — he  pointed  toward  the 
Humboldts — and  that  he  thought  a  hunting-party  of 
his  "peops"  were  up  there  killing  young  bush-rabbits. 
We  had  before  learned  that  they  are  extremely  fond  of 


10  HUNTING  STOEIES. 

these  tender  creatures,  and  make  forays  upon  them 
every  spring. 

After  this,  while  we  were  eating  breakfast,  we 
noticed  that  Pete  frequently  glanced  uneasily  at  the 
big  yellow-gray  mound  that  stretched  obliquely  across 
the  gap  some  half  a  mile  below. 

"  That  mounting,"  he  said  at  length,  with  seeming 
indifference,  "  that  mounting  he  come  'way  up  this 
away  since  two  yea'  now.  He  got  mad  at  speyets,  an' 
have  bayed  (buried)  um  in  um  cave.  You  neveh  hea* 
um  sing  no  mo'  now." 

Then  he  arose,  and  coolly  announced  that  he  should 
ride  off  to  see  the  party  of  his  "  hunt  folks,"  while  we 
stayed  at  the  mountain.  He  would  be  back  the  next 
morning,  he  said,  and  then  we  should  go  home. 

Nothing  we  could  say  would  induce  him  to  remain, 
and  he  rode  away  and  left  us,  provoked  and  disap- 
pointed enough. 

It  seemed,  after  all,  that  there  was  nothing  to  see 
but  a  big  pile  of  sand,  that  was  blown  about  by  the 
winds,  as  we  had  seen  other  smaller  heaps  blown  about 
on  sand-flats  in  California. 

Pete,  we  surmised,  must  have  ascribed  the  marked 
change  in  the  position  of  the  sand  mountain,  since  he 
had  seen  it  last,  to  some  occult  cause,  and,  possessed  of 
his  superstitious  notion,  had,  Indian-like,  made  haste  to 
get  out  of  the  neighborhood.     . 

We  suddenly  lost  interest  in  the  "  big  sand  heap," 
declared  the  trip  a  flat  failure,  and  were  thoroughly 
disgusted.  If  we  had  not  been  angry  at  Pete,  we 
should  have  packed  the  burros,  mounted  our  ponies, 
and  set  out  after  him  in  the  hope  of  meeting  with  an 
adventure  of  some  sort. 


HUNTING   8T0EIES.  11 

As  it  was,  we  stayed,  and  met  with  one  which  seems 
incredible  to  relate,  yet  which  came  about  from  as 
natural  a  cause  as  any  phenomenon  connected  with 
the  traveling  mountain. 

It  happened  thus : 

We  had  gone  down  the  stream,  bent  upon  explora- 
tion, and  had  easily  discovered  the  process  by  which 
the  great  mound  was  encroaching  upon  and  filling  up 
the  canon.  The  wind,  prevailing  from  the  west,  had 
blown  the  sand  across  its  top  and  along  its  sides  above 
the  level  of  the  canon's  walls,  and  piled  them  in  ridges 
and  heaps,  which,  like  snow  accumulating  upon  a  steep 
mountain-side,  had  caved  off,  slid,  and  settled  into  the 
abyss  below. 

We  could  see  several  fresh  "  breaks,"  where  huge 
piles  of  sand — probably  from  the  settling  of  the  mass 
below  them — had  recently  given  away,  and  had  pre- 
cipitated their  bulk  in  a  long  shooting  slide  down  the 
side  of  the  mound  to  the  very  foot  of  its  base  in  the 
canon. 

The  mound  loomed  up  above  us  like  a  huge  embank- 
ment, and  reminded  us  of  the  big  "dump  "  of  a  gigan- 
tic piece  of  grading. 

We  tried  to  climb,  but  found  the  sides  too  steep  and 
the  sand  too  soft  and  yielding,  and,  in  fact,  we  never 
got  to  the  top  of  the  traveling  mountain.  We 
searched  for  caves  along  the  canon  walls,  but  found 
only  some  big  cracks  and  fissures  in  the  gray  sand- 
stone at  their  bases. 

The  atmosphere  was  still ;  there  had  been  no  Wind 
since  we  had  arrived  the  night  before,  and,  as  the  sun 
mounted,  the  air  of  the  canon  grew  hot  and  stifling. 
We  bathed  our  heads  and  limbs  in  the  water  that  lay 


IS  HUNTING  STORIES. 

backed  up  in  the  channel  soaking  into  the  sands,  but 
the  liquid  was  hot  and  oozy,  and  had  a  depressing 
effect. 

The  sun  had  got  round  so  that  there  was  no  shade 
from  the  rocky  walls,~and  we  were  thinking  of  going 
back  to  camp  and  making  a  shade  by  spreading  our 
blankets  over  grease- wood  bushes,  when  Jack  proposed 
that  we  should  crawl  into  a  fissure  in  the  rocks  that 
we  had  discovered,  where  a  sand-slide  had  poured  over 
the  cliff  and  shot  obliquely  across  the  opening. 

We  had  laughingly  wondered  if  there  were  any 
"spirits"  living  in  that  "big  crack,"  and  now  Jack 
thought  we  might  crawl  in  tjiere  and  cool  off  at  the 
risk  of  disturbing  them.    We  went  over  and  looked  in. 

It  was  a  fissure  wide  enough  to  creep  into  and  sit 
down  in,  and  extended  back  some  eight  or  ten  feet 
before  narrowing  away,  as  it  did,  again  to  the  solid 
wall.  We  got  on  our  hands  and  knees  and  went  in, 
getting  back  into  a_wider  space  behind  the  sand-slide 
where  the  sun  had  not  been  able  to  beat  in  that  morn- 
ing, and  we  found  the  place  tolerably  cool  and  com- 
fortable. 

As  the  roof  of  the  fissure  slanted  downward,  the 
sand,  of  course,  could  only  fill  in  to  the  natural  angle 
or  slant  of  its  fall,  and  so  there  was  plenty  of  room 
for  us  in  a  sitting  or  lying  posture. 

But,  to  hasten  the  story,  we  had  been  sitting  there 
but  a  few  minutes  when  Judson,  who  was  a  good 
marksman,  proposed  that  we  should  try  our  rifles 
upon  the  sand-rocks  of  the  opposite  canon  wall,  whioh 
we  could  see  by  looking  obliquely  past  the  line  of  the 
"  dump  ",  as  we  termed  the  great  mass  which  had  slid 
down  there. 


HUNTING  STORIES.  13 

"  I'll  bet,"  said  Judson,  "  that  I  can  make  the  sand 
fly  most  awful  close  to  that  crack  in  the  big  gray  rock 
that  stands  out  on  that  point  yonder ; "  and,  bringing 
his  knees  up  in  front  of  him,  and  "  resting  "  his  "Win- 
chester across  them,  he  took  careful  aim  and  fired. 

Sometimes  even  yet  I  fancy  that  explosion  rings  in 
my  ears.  It  sounded  as  though  a  hundred  cannons 
had  all  been  fired  off  at  once. 

Before  the  echo  of  it  ceased,  we  were  startled  by  a 
swift,  rustling,  whistling  sound,  and  like  a  flash  a 
heavy  rush  of  sand  shot  down  across  the  dpening  in 
front  of  our  eyes,  falling  with  a  heavy  whoosh  and 
shut  the  fissure  in  until  we  were  left  in  almost  total 
darkness. 

For  some  seconds  we  sat  in  silence,  utterly  stunned 
by  the  calamity  which  had  befallen  us.  During  that 
moment  I  think  we  were  all  staring  fixedly  at  the  slim 
line  of  light  left  at  the  farther  end  of  the  fissure,  then 
Jack  broke  the  silence  in  a  scared  voice. 

u We're  buried  alive!"  he  exclaimed.  "We  can 
never  get  out  through  that  crack  yonder  in  the  world." 

"  It  was  the  gun,"  said  Judson.  a  How  horrible ! " 

As  for  me,  I  was  too  much  frightened  to  find  my 
roice  yet.  But  Jack,  who  was  the  smallest,  and,  I 
think,  the  coolest  and  quickest-witted,  immediately  got 
on  his  hands  and  knees  and  crept  forward  to  explore 
the  chances  of  getting  out. 

As  he  wriggled  up  into  the  narrow  space  that  was 
left  between  us  and  the  only  remaining  crack*  of  light, 
Judson  and  I  were  enveloped  in  the  densest  of  darkness. 

"  Well,  how  is  it  ? "  asked  Judson  at  length,  and  I 
held  my  breath  for  the  answer. 

"Slim  chance,"  he   answered.    His   voice,  though 


14  HUNTING  STORIES. 

sounding  hollow  and  weird,  seemed  strangely  cool. 
"Cracks  'bout  six  inches  wide  where  the  sand  cuts 
across.  I  can  reach  out  nearly  to  it  with  my  hand 
from  where  I  lay,  and  back  about  four  feet  here  there's 
space  enough  to  crawl  through  by  tight  squeezing. 
Only  show's  to  dig  out,  and  I  don't  believe  it  can  be 
done  from  the  inside,  for  the  sand'll  run  in  fast  as  we 
can  dig.    If  one  of  us  was  only  outside  !  " 

"Try  digging,"  said  Judson. 

Jack  went  at  it.  He  dug  for  some  time,  while  we 
sat  in  perfect  silence,  fearfully  awaiting  the  result. 

"It's  no  use,"  he  announced,  despairingly,  after 
working  desperately  for  what  seemed  an  age ;  "  there's 
such  a  tremendous  bulk  above  outside  that  it  pours  in 
faster  than  I  can  dig.  If  we  try  to  dig  out  we  shall 
only  fill  this  hole  all  up  and  be  worse  off  than  we  are 
now." 

We  groaned  in  dismay.  The  situation  was  truly 
horrible.  "We  were  literally  buried  alive.  I  shall 
never  forget  the  terrible  emotions  of  that  time,  when 
escape  seemed  impossible. 

Jack,  after  lying  some  time  longer  peering  out  at 
the  crevice,  said :  "  I've  thought  of  a  way  to  get  us 
out,  fellows,  when  Pete  comes." 

My  heart  bounded  at  the  mention  of  the  half-breed's 
name ;  I  had  not  thought  of  him. 

"  It'll  take  some  time,"  continued  Jack,  calmly,  "  but 
it  can  be  done,  if  only  there  don't  come  another  slide, 
and  Pete  has  sense  and  wit  enough  to  come  and  look 
us  up.  I  don't  think  there  can  be  such  slides  every 
day,  and  Pete'll  surely  come  down  here  in  the  morning 
when  he  finds  we're  not  in  camp. 

"We  now  began  to  hope  that  there  was  a  chance  of 


HUNTING  STORIES,  15 

rescue,  but  we  knew  that  it  would  be  a  terrible  trial  of 
patience  and  endurance  to  be  cooped  up  in  that  dark 
hole,  no  one  could  say  how  many  hours,  without  food 
or  water. 

Jack  crawled  back  to  where  we  were  and  told  his 
plan.  It  was  to  watch  for  Pete  in  the  morning,  hail 
him  through  the  crack  when  he  came  within  sight, 
explain  the  situation,  have  him  bring  biscuits,  water 
and  a  lariat,  and  while  we  were  satisfying  our  hunger 
he  could  begin  digging  at  the  sand  near  the  crevice. 

He  would  need  to  remove  a  great  deal  of  sand,  but 
Jack  thought  the  opening  might  be  made  large  enough 
to  admit  of  our  being  drawn  out  one  at  a  time  by  the 
lariat,  though  he  admitted  it  would  be  "tight  wriggling 
and  an  awful  sight  of  work."  At  any  rate,  we  should 
not  starve,  and  if  only  another  slide  did  not  occur,  he 
felt  sure  "  the  thing  could  be  done." 

But  then,  if  Pete  should  be  frightened  and  not  come 
within  reach  of  our  voices,  or  if  another  slide  should 
take  place. 

Ah,  that  terrible  if  I 

The  chance  of  escape  from  that  living  tomb  seemed 
frightfully  small,  even  when  calculating  it  in  our  cool- 
est moments.  For  the  present  there  was  nothing  to  do 
but  to  wait.  Such  a  waiting !  The  agony  of  that  sus- 
pense cannot  be  described. 

At  first,  after  pulling  in  sand  enough  to  make  a  com- 
fortable bed  to  lie  on,  we  only  suffered  from  the  natural 
terror  and  suspense  of  the  situation,  but,  as  the  hours 
wore  on,  the  pangs  of  hunger,  and  more  especially  of 
thirst,  became  little  less  than  torture. 

The  day  passed  slowly,  and  my  memory  of  the  night 
that  followed  is  confused.    I  spent  it  tossing  about  in 


16  HUNTING  STORIES. 

a  burning  fever,  induced  by  fright,  anxiety  and  extreme 
thirst.    The  other  boys  fared  little  better. 

At  daylight,  however,  we  had  life  enough  to  discover 
that  oar  chance  of  escape  had  not  been  diminished  by 
the  falling  of  more  sand,  and  Jack,  gaining  hope  and 
courage,  crawled  forward  to  be  on  the  lookout  for 
Pete. 

We  tried  to  talk,  but  our  tongues  were  parched,  and 
a  burning  sensation  of  the  throat  and  stomach  proved 
too  depressing  fpr  effort  in  that  direction. 

The  hours  dragged  on,  and  still  Pete  did  not  come. 

How  we  raged  at  the  cowardly  half-breed  I 

We  waited  until  near  noon,  and  then,  in  a  fury  of 
despair  and  terror,  I  declared  to  Jack  and  Judson  that 
we  "must  dig"  that  I  would  "dig  into  the  sandpile  and 
die  there,  smother^  rather  than  burn  up  in  this  horrible 
hole." 

At  that  we  began  digging.  Jack,  at  the  narrowest 
part  of  the  opening  where  it  was  thought  we  could 
crawl  through,  pawed  the  sand  out  and  threw  it  behind 
him  to  Judson,  who  passed  it  on  to  me,  and  I  threw  it 
still  farther  back  into  the  fissure. 

We  had  worked  an  hour,  perhaps,  and  I  for  one  had 
started  the  sweat  and  felt  better,  when  Jack  suddenly 
exclaimed : 

'•'  Thanh  goodness,  there's  Pete!  " 

The  open  crack,  though  small,  still  commanded,  from 
where  we  lay,  quite  an  extensive  view  of  the  canon, 
and,  peering  over  Jack's  shoulder,  Judson  and  I  saw 
Pete  slowly  and  cautiously  moving  down  along  the 
channel  of  the  stream,  peering  this  way  and  that  as  he 
came. 

He  had  discovered  that  something  was  amiss,  and 


HUNTING  STORIES.  IT 

was  evidently  ooth  frightened  and  filled  with  some 
superstitious  notion.  When  the  half-breed  had  come 
up  within  a  few  yards.  Jack  put  his  hands  to  his 
mouth  so  as  to  throw  the  sound  outside  and  spoke  to 
him. 

Pete  was  startled  and  looked  frightened  enough,  but 
as  Jack,  in  a  husky  voice,  proceeded  to  explain  our 
situation,  he  glanced  up  at  the  mountain  and  down  at 
the  crevice  with  quick  intelligence.  Without  waiting 
for  Jack  to  finish  or  give  any  instructions,  he  flung  up 
on©  hand  with  a  gesture  of  comprehension,  and  saying, 
"Wait;  I  come  back  quick?"  bounded  away  toward 
the  camp. 

He  was  back  in  a  few  minutes,  and  with  him  came 
three  Indians,  all  on  their  ponies.  Pete  had  brought 
coffee  and  biscuits,  which  he  passed  in  to  us,  the  liquid 
in  a  tin  cup,  and  the  biscuits  by  tossing  them  through, 
while  his  fellows  stood  about  giving  vent  to  grunts  of 
amazement. 

In  five  minutes  we  were  new  beings,  filled  with  hope, 
courage  and  strength. 

"  We  git  you  out,"  said  Pete,  and  they  all  went  at  it 
and  dug  with  might  and  main. 

As  they  dug,  the  sand  slid  down  from  a  great  space 
above,  and  it  took  them  hours  to  remove  enough  to 
enable  them  to  get  at  us,  and  then  only  by  a  piece  of 
ingenuity  of  Pete's  devising. 

They  burrowed  in  by  using  three  big  Mexican  saddles 
to  make  a  tunnel.  These  saddles  they  placed  hollow 
side  to  the  crevice,  shoving  one  ahead  of  the  other 
until  an  arched  tunnel  was  formed  through  which  each 
m%  of  the  prisoners  was  drawn  oat  by  lariat 


18 


HUNTING-  STORIES. 


"We  came  through  somewhat  bruised  and  jammed, 
but  thankful. 

The  wind  was  blowing  when  we  got  outside,  and  the 
sand  was  falling  over  the  bluff,  sifting  down  with  a  rus- 
tling murmur  which  indicated  to  Pete  and  his  brother 
Indians  that  the  mountain  spirits  were  free  again. 


j^fetef^: ■» 


"We  git  you  out,"  said  Pete.— Page  17 

If  they  really  were,  and  felt  as  light-hearted  as  we 
three  boys  did,  they  were  spirits  truly  to  be  envied. 

We  set  out  for  home  the  next  morning,  having  had 
quite  enough  experience  with  Traveling  Mountain, 
The  Indians  rode  all  the  way  back  with  us,  for  the 
sake,  as  we  believed,  of  the  food  which  we  were  glad 
to  furnish  in  consideration  of  their  services  to  us. 


n. 

I'flE  HORN-HUNTER'8  ADVENTURE. 

Trophy  heads  of  Buffalo,  elk  and  other  animals  have 
been  favorite  tavern  signs  ever  since  the  days  cf  our 
Saxon  ancestors,  but  the  "  craze  "  for  polished  buffalo 
and  Texas  steer  horns  is  of  much  more  recent  date. 
Indeed,  it  has  been  but  lately  discovered  by  relic-ven- 
ders that  the  horns  of  the  American  bison  are  suscep- 
tible of  a  very  beautiful  ebony-like  polish,  which 
renders  them  highly  ornamental.  Since  this  fact  has 
become  known,  however,  the  demand  for  them  has 
increased,  until  the  present  traffic  in  them  has  grown 
to  be  both  extensive  and  lucrative. 

The  new  stations  and  towns  along  the  line  of  the 
Northern  Pacific  and  of  the  Canadian  Pacific  railways 
are  the  present  headquarters  of  the  trade,  since  these 
new  railroads  penetrate  the  old  haunts  of  the  bison. 

Here  the  bone-picker,  horn-gatherer  and  relic-hunter 
have,  for  two  years  past,  been  reaping  an  abundant 
and  profitable  harvest.  Bones  for  fertilizing  purposes, 
at  from  twelve  to  sixteen  dollars  per  ton,  buffalo  horns 
at  fifty  cents  a  pair,  and  occasionally^  set  of  elk-antlers, 
worth  from  five  to  fifteen  dollars,  according  to  their 
size  and  beauty,  furnish  a  virgin  harvest  for  the  few 
who  have  the  hardihood  to  scour  the  great  solitary 
plains  and  lonely  mountain  ranges  of  this  wild  region. 

Some  months  ago  the  writer  chanced  to  fall  in  with 
two  young  men,  then  on  their  return  from  the  Yellow- 
stone country,  who  related,  in  the  way  of  conversa- 

19 


%0  JIUWTIN©  8T0&IES. 

tion,  several  interesting  instances  from  their  experience 
in  horn  and  "specimen"  hunting  along  the  Rose- 
bud and  its  tributaries. 

They  were  then,  and  are  now,  students  at  a  Western 
college,  and  having  their  own  expenses  to  pay,  had  gone 
out  on  the  plains  last  summer,  during  the  vacation 
season,  to  see  what  could  be  done  in  the  way  of  mak- 
ing money.  They  set  off  prepared  for  the  work,  and 
had  made  a  market  in  advance  with  a  friend  in  Chi- 
cago, who  kept  a  general  curiosity  shop,  for  all  the 
buffalo  horns  which  they  might  be  able  to  gather  and 
polish. 

They  took  with  them  a  stout  wall  tent  and  a  couple 
of  breech-loading  rifles,  and  after  arriving  at  Eosebud 
purchased  two  strong  pack-ponies,  some  cooking  uten- 
sils and  provisions.  Thus  equipped,  they  moved  out 
to  a  distance  of  twenty  miles  or  more,  to  a  region 
which  had  been  famous  for  buffalo-hunting  during  the 
previous  winter,  pitched  their  tent,  and  began  opera- 
tions. 

As  the  horns  have  to  be  polished  perfectly  in  order 
to  command  the  highest  price,  one  of  the  boys  was 
obliged  to  stay  at  the  tent  and  work  constantly  with 
knife,  glass,  and  paper  and  emory.  The  other,  mean- 
time, scoured  the  plains  on  horseback,  with  pack-sack, 
rifle  and  horn-hammer  (a  light  hammer  for  knocking 
the  horn  loose  from  the  skull),  and  came  in  at  night 
invariably  loaded  down  with  big  "  tossers." 

The  ground  there  in  many  places  was  literally 
strewn  with  buffalo  skeletons. 

As  was  quite  natural  in  such  a  region,  some  excit- 
ing incidents  befell  them,  several,  in  fact,  with  a 
genuine  flavor  of  adventure.    One  of  them,  whole 


HUNTING  STORIES.  21 

name  is  Hollingsworth  ("  Rufe,"  his  companion  called 
him),  gave  the  following  account  of  anr  adventure  with 
two  mountain  lions,  or  rather  with  a  ^family  of  those 
dangerous  beasts.  It  happened  during  the  first  part 
of  August,  shortly  after  they  had  moved  their  camp 
up  a  small  branch  of  the  Rosebud,  to  the  mouth  of  a 
timbered,  rocky  canon,  known  among  hunters  as 
Starving  Crow  Gulch. 

Eufe  was  riding  down  the  gulch  late  one  evening, 
after  an  unusually  long  trip  after  horns.  He  was 
leading  the  other  pony  behind  him,  packed  with  two 
large  sacks,  astride  of  which,  and  tied  on,  rested  a 
magnificent  pair  of  elk  antlers.  As  he  jogged  on,  he 
was  congratulating  himself  on  the  prospective  receipts 
of  their  next  shipment  from  Kosebud,  when,  with  a 
low  growl,  some  big  creature  sprang,  from  a  thicket  of 
underbrush  near  at  hand,  and  drew  itself  up  directly 
in  front  of  his  pony  ! 

Surprised  and  greatly  frightened,  the  animal  which 
he  rode  sprang  snorting  backward,  pitching  Eufe 
forward  upon  the  pommel.  At  the  same  instant  the 
other  pony,  whose  stout  lariat  was  securely  fastened 
to  a -ring  in  the  rear  of  a  saddle-tree,  dashed  wildly 
ahead.  The  shock  proved  too  much  for  the  girth, 
which  was  an  old  and  long-used  one;  it  snapped,  and 
Rufe  was  thrown  heels  over  head  to  the  ground. 
Worse  still,  one  foot  hung  in  the  stirrup,  and  for  sev- 
eral rods  he  was  dragged,  sprawling,  over  the  rough 
ground,  after  a  terribly  rough-and-tumble  fashion;  then 
the  stirrup  lost  its  grip,  and  he  lay  for  some  seconds 
so  stunned  and  bruised  as  hardly  to  recollect  what  had 
happened. 

But  at  length  he  pulled  himself  together — as  an 


22  HUNTING    STORIES. 

Englishman  would  say — and  staggered  to  his  feet.  As 
he  did  so,  he  heard  the  distant  clatter  of  his  ponies' 
hoofs  as  they  fled  one  up  and  the  other  down  the  gulch. 
First  he  rubbed  his  bruised  arms  and  legs  vigorously, 
and  concluding  that  he  had  no  bones  broken,  bethought 
himself  to  look  about  and  pick  up  his  gun,  which  he 
knew  must  have  been  thrown  from  its  open  holster  on 
the  saddle.  The  full  moon  was  shining  brightly  in  the 
east,  but  the  steep,  black  sides  of  the  gulch,  the  shadows 
of  the  rocks,  trees  and  undergrowth,  rendered  his 
search  an  uncertain  one.  He  was,  as  he  frankly 
acknowledged,  afraid  to  go  back  where  the  wild  creature 
had  sprung  out  and  frightened  his  animals,  for  he 
strongly  suspected  the  nature  of  the  beast;  and  he 
had  heard  stories  of  the  mountain  lion  which  made  him 
feel  rather  weak-kneed  at  the  prospect  of  meeting  one 
in  such  a  place. 

He  continued  back  through  the  bushes,  however, 
until  he  reached  the  small  opening  where  he  had  been 
thrown  from  his  pony.  But  as  he  stepped  out  into  the 
clear  space,  a  shrill  scream  came  from  the  bushes  close 
by — a  horrible,  unearthly  cry,  utterly  beyond  descrip- 
tion— that  literally  raised  his  hair,  and  sent  a  prickly 
chill  over  his  whole  body.  This  scream  was  followed 
by  a  whining,  snuffling  sound,  as  of  a  young  puppy 
badly  frightened. 

Rufe  drew  back  from  the  bushes  into  the  middle  of 
the  opening,  where  the  light  was  strongest,  and  looked 
nervously  about  him.  He  could  see  nothing ;  but  he 
dared  not  run,  fearing  that  such  a  display  of  alarm 
would  invite  an  attack  from  the  "lion."  Again  the 
creature  sent  forth  from  the  brush  a  terrific  scream ; 
and  this  time  an  answering  cry  came  from  the  opposite 


HUNTING   STORIES.  23 

side,  so  close  at  hand  that  Rufe  turned  in  terror, 
expecting  to  see  this  second  lion  ready  to  leap  upon 
him. 

A  moment  later  a  long-bodied  animal  stalked  out 
from  the  shade  of  a  clump  of  willows,  showing  itself  in 
the  open  ground,  scarcely  thirty  feet  distant  from  where 
Rufe  stood!  Its  attitude  was  threatening,  its  eyes 
glowed,  it  snarled  savagely,  and  its  long  tail  swept 
from  side  to  side ! 

For  a  moment  the  horn-hunter  was  too  much  fright- 
ened to  stir  from  the  spot ;  yet  he  retained  sense  enough 
to  fully  comprehend  the  situation.  He  was  facing  a 
full-grown  male  lion,  which  had  undoubtedly  come  at 
the  call  of  its  mate,  to  help  in  protecting  their  young  j 
In  a  word,  he  had  stumbled  on  a  nest  of  mountain 
lions,  in  the  night,  and  had  nothing  but  a  small  hunting- 
knife  with  which  to  defend  himself. 

For  an  instant  he  gave  himself  up  as  lost,  then 
seeing  that  the  beast  did  not  spring,  he  recovered  his 
nerve  a  little,  and  began  thinking  of  escape. 

There  stood  the  powerful  brute,  its  outline  quite 
distinct  in  the  moonlight. 

Rufe  now  determined  to  try  the  effect  of  a  move- 
ment ;  for  he  could  endure  the  strain  of  such  suspense 
no  longer.  Accordingly,  he  stepped  slowly  backward  ; 
but  as  he  did  so  the  creature's  furious  lashings  and 
snarlings  grew  louder,  seconded  by  deep  growls  from 
its  mate. 

Determined,  if  possible,  however,  to  reach  and  climb 
one  of  the  nearest  cotton  woods,  Rufe  took  another 
backward  step.  As  he  moved  his  foot,  the  spur  on  his 
heel  clinked  faintly  against  something,  with  a  metallic 
sound ;  and  divining  instantly  what  it  was,  he  looked 


24  HUNTINa  STORIES. 

down  and  saw  the  barrel  of  his  rifle  lying  directly 
between  his  feet.  He  had  been  standing  almost  over  it> 
while  looking  in  vain  on  all  sides ! 

At  sight  of  it,  his  heart  gave  a  joyful  throb ;  he 
stooped  quickly,  picked  it  up ;  and  as  he  straightened 
up  to  look  out  for  the  enemy  again,  he  saw  the  male 
lion  walking  slowly  across  the  moonlit  space,  not  ten 
paces  in  front  of  him ! 

It  was  circling  around  him  preparatory  to  an  attack. 
It  walked  with  a  sidling  motion,  lashing  out  its  tail, 
its  big  head  turned  towards  him. 

Slowly  and  carefully,  as  one  whose  life  depended  on 
his  skill  in  shooting,  Eufe  drew  the  gun  to  his  face, 
and  taking  aim  as  perfect  as  the  light  admitted  of, 
fired ! — and  instantly  threw  another  cartridge  forward 
for  a  second  shot.  But  the  animal  had  dropped  in  its 
tracks,  as  though  struck  by  lightning ;  and  without  a 
sound,  save  a  little  gurgle  in  its  throat,  it  gave  two  or 
three  kicks,  and  lay  as  lifeless  as  a  log  T 

It  was  a  powerful  animal,  even  though  lying  dead, 
and  seen  by  moonlight.  Its  body,  including  the  head, 
was  more  than  five  feet  in  length,  and  its  tail  some  four 
feet  more. 

Eufe  had  no  more  fear  of  lions  that  night.  He  spent 
some  minutes  examining  the  animal,  satisfying  his 
curiosity  generally  with  regard  to  its  species.  Then 
he  started  for  home,  but  met  Mayhew,  his  partner, 
riding  out  the  pack-pony — which  had  run  directly  to 
camp— to  see  what  had  become  of  him.  Together 
they  went  back,  built  a  fire  for  light,  and  skinned  the 
lion  before  returning. 

Next  morning  the  other  pony  came  in ;  and  during 


HUNTING  STORIES. 


25 


the  forenoon  they  found  the  elk  antlers  undamaged, 
and  secured  also  a  part  of  the  buffalo  horns,  which  had 
been  scattered  along  the  pack-pony's  route,  as  it  ran 


in. 

A  FRIGHTENED  HERD. 

During  the  autumn  of  '82  and  the  winter  following 
a  number  of  the  writer's  friends  ( among  them  "  Mell " 
Green )  spent  several  months  in  buffalo-hunting,  upon 
a  branch  of  the  Powder  River,  in  Montana  Territory. 

They  had  gone  to  that  region  with  the  idea  of  form- 
ing a  "cattle  company ;"  but  after  some  prospecting, 
the  plan  was  given  up,  and  then  the  young  men — there 
were  six  in  the  party,  all  sportsmen  by  instinct  and 
some  practice — speedily  took  the  buffalo  fever.  For 
there  were  here,  even  at  that  late  date,  considerable 
"  bands "  of  these  animals  along  the  branches  of  the 
Big  Horn  and  Powder  Rivers ;  and  the  killing  of  them 
for  their  skins  had  not  yet  ceased  to  be  an  exciting  and 
a  profitable  business. 

Much  is  said  about  protecting  elk,  deer  and  buffalo 
in  the  West.  No  one  doubts,  I  suppose,  that  these 
noble  game  animals  should  be  protected  by  law 
strictly  enforced,  or  that  the  slaughter  of  them  for 
their  hides  merely  is  infamous.  But  so  long  as  foreign 
sportsmen  are  permitted  to  come  here  and  shoot  to 
their  hearts'  content,  it  is  hardly  to  be  expected  that 
the  American  settler  will  refrain  from  so  doing.  For 
why  should  he  spare  the  game — for  English  and 
French  sportsmen  to  shoot  ?  So,  at  least,  he  reasons, 
though  it  is  not  the  broad  view  of  the  case. 

My  friends  were  well  equipped  with  the  best  of 
modern  sporting  rifles;  and  after  purchasing  riding 

26 


HUNTING   STORIES.  27 

ponies,  pack  animals,  provisions,  blankets,  and  the  nec- 
essary articles  of  camp  equipage,  it  only  remained  to 
select  a  hunting-ground  and  build  a  "  shack."  They 
finally  pitched  upon  the  Chalk  Buttes  region  as  their 
range.  There  are  a  chain  of  white-capped  mounds 
skirting  a  small  branch  of  the  Powder  River.  There 
are  a  considerable  number  of  these  buttes — high,  con- 
spicuous bluffs,  capped  each  with  ledges  of  chalk-rock 
and  having  their  steep  sides  covered  with  stunted 
pines,  loose  boulders  and  hill  grass. 

The  valley  of  the  stream,  and  all  the  rough  country 
lying  around  the  buttes  was  then  carpeted  thickly  with 
the  short,  curly,  nutritious  buffalo  grass.  Many  small 
" bunches"  of  buffalo  and  deer,  and  immense  bands  of 
antelope,  fed  over  this  range,  which  was  also  grazing- 
-ground  for  their  ponies  and  mules.  So  the  boys  "  pre- 
empted "  this  locality  early  in  the  season. 

They  built  their  shack  of  logs  cut  from  the  tall,  slim 
cottonwoods  which  grew  along  the  creek.  It  was  a 
commodious  affair,  sixteen  by  twenty-six,  with  a  stone 
fire-place,  two  small  windows  and  a  roof  of  poles  cov- 
ered with  turf.  The  situation  was  picturesque.  For 
they  were  on  high  ground,  overlooking  the  creek  valley 
on  the  west  side,  but  at  the  very  base  of  a  high  butte 
on  the  other,  almost  in  the  base,  in  fact,  space  having 
been  dug  back  into  the  abrupt  bank  for  a  part  of  the 
foundation.  The  steep,  conical  bluff,  with  its  chevaux 
defrise  of  charred,  stubby  pines  and  its  battlements  of 
chalk-rock,  towered  above  the  low  cabin  like  a  shelter- 
ing fortress. 

At  this  comfortable  "  headquarters  "  the  party  lived 
for  several  months,  fetching  their  water  up  hill  and 
bringing  their  wood  down  from  the  side  of  the  butte. 


28  HUNTING   STORIES. 

Hereabouts  they  hunted,  going  off  for  many  miles  on 
all  sides  of  the  shack,  starting  early  in  the  morning  and 
often  coming  in  very  late  at  night.  Sometimes  they 
were  lucky,  and  came  toiling  back  to  the  shack  from 
all  directions  loaded  with  pelts  and  with  exciting  after- 
supper  stories  to  tell ;  and  sometimes,  though  rarely, 
they  all  came  in  empty-handed. 

By  midwinter  a  score  or  more  of  three-cornered  curing 
racks,  made  of  light  poles  set  in  crotches,  had  been 
erected  and  were  plentifully  hung  with  buffalo  skins. 
These  robe-draped  racks  added  not  a  little  to  the  pic- 
turesqueness  of  their  surroundings ;  and  the  incidents 
of  their  daily  life  here  were  rough,  venturesome,  and 
often  wildly  exciting.  I  am  indebted  to  my  friend 
"Mell"  for  the  following  account  of  an  adventure 
which  occurred  at  the  shack  one  morning: 

"  We  had  just  eaten  breakfast,"  said  he,  "and  were 
bringing  up  our  horses  to  saddle  and  get  ready  for  the 
day's  hunt,  when  Tom  Wrisley,  who  was  just  ahead  of 
me  with  his  pony,  stopped  short,  and  sang  out :  *  Look 
at  old  Jack,  Mell ! ' 

"  Jack  was  a  large  pack-mule  that  we  had  bought  at 
Miles.  He  possessed  all  the  characteristics  of  the  mule 
in  general,  and  had  besides  several  striking  qualities 
peculiar  to  himself.  He  was  blessed  with  the  keenest 
eyesight  and  the  finest  sense  of  hearing  of  any  creature 
I  have  ever  seen,  and  he  was  a  pointer  too.  Yes,  a 
genuine  pointer,  and  as  good  a  one  as  any  bird-dog  you 
ever  hunted  over. 

"There  couldn't  an  animal  come  within  sight  or 
hearing,  no,  or  a  bird,  but  he  was  sure  to  clap  his  eyes 
upon  it  and  to  make  a  straight l  point '  at  it.  Then  he 
would  stand  stock-still,  ears  and  nose  aimed  in  the  same 


HUNTING   STORIES.  29 

direction  and  on  parallel  lines ;  and  he  would  stand  so 
until  his  curiosity  was  satisfied,  and  he  had  concluded 
whether  to  run  or  keep  his  ground.  „  And  when  he  had 
once  concluded,  he  stood  or  ran  without  regard  to  con- 
sequences. 

"  When  Tom  called  my  attention  to  him,  I  looked, 
and  there  stood  the  old  fellow  gazing  up  the  side  of  the 
butte,  his  nostrils  wide  open,  his  big  ears  making  a 
straight  point  for  the  chalk-ledges,  and  his  hair  all 
bristled  up  on  end.  I  had  never  seen  him  look  that 
way  but  once  before,  and  that  was  when  he  had  sighted 
a  cinnamon  bear.  He  usually  wore  an  air  of  mild 
curiosity  at  the  sight  of  strange  objects;  a  kind  of 
gentle  surprise  seemed  to  beam  out  all  over  him. 

" '  Something  uncommon  up  there,'  said  Tom ;  '  cin- 
namon, I  reckon.'  And  we  both  stared  hard  up  at  the 
top  of  the  ledge. 

"  We  didn't  see  anything  at  first ;  but  in  a  few 
seconds  we  both  started  in  the  same  breath  and 
exclaimed — 

11 '  Buffalo  r 

"  And  indeed  it  was  queer  we  hadn't  seen  them  at 
the  first  glance ;  for  they  stood  on  the  extreme  edge  of 
a  narrow  '  bench'  at  the  foot  of  the  chalk-ledge,  their 
dark  bodies  outlined  plain  against  the  white  crag,  and 
not  more  than  seven  hundred  feet  above  us.  They 
seemed  to  be  looking  down  at  us,  over  the  tops  of  the 
stumpy  pines,  with  as  much  interest  as  we  were  regard- 
ing them. 

" '  Twenty-seven  of  'em ! '  muttered  Tom.  '  We  must 
have  them ! ' 

"  By  this  time  the  other  boys  had  sighted  them,  and 
were  scudding  to  the  shack  for  their  guns. 


30  HUNTING   STORIES. 

"  In  a  minute  or  less  time  we  had  the  ponies  tied, 

and  the  six  of  us  were  outside,  guns  in  hand,  watching 
the  herd  from  behind  the  curing  racks  and  the  corners 
of  the  cabin. 

"  The  game  didn't  seem  in  any  hurry  to  move,  but 
just  stood  and  looked  down  with  a  lazy  curiosity  that 
was  rather  tantalizing.  Jack  was  still  staring  up  at 
them,  but  his  hair  had  slicked  down,  and  the  old  air  of 
mild  and  ruminating  wonder  had  taken  the  place  of  his 
first  ferocious  stare. 

"  Tom  and  I  stood  by  the  corner  of  the  shack.  4  I'm 
going  to  fire,'  said  he. 

"  'All  right,'  said  I ;  '  try  that  big  bull  near  the 
centre.' 

"  Tom  had  a  heavy  40-90  Sharp.  He  laid  the  barrel 
across  the  end  of  a  projecting  log,  sighted  up  at  the 
bull  and  fired.  All  the  rest  of  us  followed  suit,  and 
five  'more  bullets  went  whizzing  up  the  butte.  The 
balls  did  execution;  four  of  the  unwieldy  creatures, 
hard  hit  and  unable  to  turn,  fell,  or  leaped  off  their 
path ;  and  these  knocked  off  several  others,  half  the 
whole  herd,  in  fact.  They  came  plunging  and  tum- 
bling down  the  steep  side  of  the  butte  like  an  avalanche. 

"  I  wish  I  could  describe  that  scene  just  as  it  looked  ! 
I  have  heard  a  great  many  stories  how  buffaloes  climb 
the  buttes  and  post  sentinels,  and  how  they  will  some- 
times charge  down  a  bluff ;  but  I  never  saw  nor  heard 
anything  like  that.  At  every  lunge  those  great  brutes 
made  clouds  of  loose  dirt  and  dry  dust  flew  up  in  front 
of  them,  while  close  at  their  heels  rattled  a  volley  of 
small  stones  and  not  a  few  good-sized  boulders. 

"  We  could  see  it  all  plainly  through  the  burnt  and 
scattering  pines  ;  and  we  opened  a  rapid  fusillade  on 


HUNTING  STOKIES. 


31 


them.  Yet  they  never  swerved — they  couldn't — but 
just  bore  down  on  us  like  a  young  cyclone.  As  they 
neared  the  foot  of  the  butte,  we  all  scuttled  in  behind 
the  shack,  and  then  kept  firing  up  over  the  top  of  it. 


They  came  plunging  and  tumbling  down. — Page  30. 

"  Old  Jack  and  the  ponies  had  snapped  their  tie-ropes 
and  galloped  wildly  away.  The  buffaloes,  most  of 
them,  scattered  out  somewhat ;  but  there  were  three 
or  four  of  them  pointing  straight  down  for  the  shack. 
A  lucky  shot  brought  down  one  of  them  and  ended 
him  off  to  one  side,  so  that  he  missed  the  shanty  and 


32  HUNTING  STORIES. 

rolled  past  our  corner ;  two  more  of  them  sheered  off 
at  this,  but  the  last  one,  a  bullet-proof  old  bull,  came 
lunging  straight  down  for  the  roof  of  the  shack.  Sev- 
eral shots  hit  him ;  but  on  he  came,  like  a  locomotive, 
and  with  a  mighty  bound  landed  squarely  in  the  mid- 
dle of  the  roof.  A  cannon-ball  could  not  have  struck 
it  much  harder.  He  went  plump  through,  and — 
mercy !  how  the  turf  and  broken  poles  flew  away  to 
make  room  for  him !  Almost  at  the  same  instant,  sev- 
eral great  boulders  came  bounding  down ;  and  one  of 
them,  striking  the  top  of  our  stone  chimney,  sent  a 
shower  of  rocks  flying  away  in  front  of  it.  Still  other 
big  stones  came  thundering  down ;  the  uproar  was 
something  tremendous. 

"Of  course  we  were  awfully  excited  and  a  little 
scared  ;  and  though  we  didn't  run  we  did  some  lively 
dodging,  firing  away  cartridges  with  desperate  energy. 
i  "  The  buffaloes  didn't  go  past  us  all  in  one  herd,  so 
we  had  quite  a  chance  at  them  while  they  were  smash- 
ing through  the  curing  racks  and  rolling  over  on  all 
sides ;  and  we  secured  seven  of  them. 

"About  the  time  the  rest  had  got  well  past,  the  old 
bull  in  the  shack,  after  knocking  things  endwise  gen- 
erally inside,  came  '  bousing '  out  of  the  open  door. 
Tom  brought  him  down  with  a  ball  through  the  neck. 

"Then  we  looked  about  us  and  took  a  survey  of 
things.  It  was  a  crazy-looking  camp.  It  looked  as  if 
an  Iowa  '  twister '  had  just  passed  over.  The  shack  was 
badly  damaged  inside  as  well  as  out,  and  the  curing 
racks  knocked  all  to  pieces,  while  skins  and  carcasses, 
boulders,  dry  logs,  sticks  and  stones  lay  scattered  all 
about  us.  It  took  the  six  of  us  all  that  day  to  find  our 
ponies  and  repair  damages. 


HUNTING  STORIES. 


33 


"  That  was  the  first  time  that  we  had  seen  buffalo  so 
high  up  on  the  buttes ;  but  afterwards,  when  the  snow 
got  deep  in  the  valleys,  we  found  them  up  on  the  very 
summits  of  some  of  the  highest  peaks  there,  where  the 
wind  had  swept  the  ground  bare  of  snow  and  uncovered 
the  dry  hill-grass." 


IN  THE  RED  RIVER  COUNTRY. 

There  were  just  six  of  us,  camped  in  the  big  woods 

on  Cache  Lake.  CoL  W- ,  the  "  Fat  Man  of  Texas," 

whose  feats  of  muscular  strength  have  made  him  fam- 
ous throughout  the  Southwest,  was  the  most  important 
figure  in  our  expedition — important  as  chief,  as  a  shot, 
and  lastly  on  account  o^f  his  tremendous  strength  and 
colossal  proportions. 

Mac  was  a  celebrated  individual  also.  Mac  was  a 
conjurer  and  "sleight-of-hand"  performer.  One  of 
his  first  exploits,  after  we  were  fairly  settled  in  camp, 
was  to  frighten  nearly  to  death  a  Comanche  chief  and 
two  of  his  braves. 

These  Indians  had  ridden  down  from  their  village  to 
pay  their  respects  and  beg  a  little  "  tobac,"  when  Mac 
was  prompted  to  try  his  arts  on  them.  His  audience 
was  at  first  considerably  astonished  at  the  feats  exhib- 
ited ;  then  a  little  frightened  and  overawed,  and  finally 
so  terribly  scared  that  they  took  to  their  heels,  or 
rather  their  horses,  in  indiscriminate  flight. 

They  had  held  out  courageously  until  Mac  appeared 
to  swallow  a  huge  bowie-knife,  and  immediately  to 
draw  it  out  of  the  pit  of  his  stomach.  That  finished 
the  scene,  and  we  saw  no  more  Indians  during  our 
stay.  The  rest  of  us  were  individuals  of  far  less  bril- 
liant attainments,  who  had  in  various  ways  gained  per- 
mission to  accompany  the  illustrious  colonel  on  this  his 
annual  hunt  in  the  woods  of  the  "  Nation." 

34 


HUNTING  STORIES.  35 

The  cook,  or  "  camp  rustler,"  was  a  fifteen-year-old 
j>rotege  of  Mac's,  who  was  enamored  of  the  conjurer's 
art,  and  who  went  by  the  somewhat  indefinite  title  of 

"  Son."    Jimmie  H ,  a  telegraph  operator  at  one 

of  the  frontier  posts;  "Jack,"  a  seventeen-year-old 

freighter  and  the  son  of  a  freighter  on  the  Ft.  S 

route,  with  myself,  made  up  the  party. 

"  "We'd  oughter  av'rige  from  ten  ter  fifteen  turkeys 
apiece  every  day  we're  out,"  the  colonel  had  declared 
before  we  started. 

Here  let  me  remark  that  we  did  not  average  ten  or 
fifteen  apiece  each  day  out,  and  that,  despite  the 
colonel's  stories  of  former  exploits,  we  don't  believe  any 
one  else  ever  did,  not  in  those  woods,  at  least. 

About  nine  o'clock  on  the  first  morning,  the  writer 
shouldered  his  eleven-pound,  ten-gauge  Baker,  and 
sallied  forth  into  the  "  deep  and  trackless  "  woods.  He 
carried  a  hearty  lunch  in  the  pockets  of  his  hunting- 
coat,  expecting  to  be  gone  all  day,  and  to  return  at 
night  laden  with  at  least  six  large  gobblers ;  the  other 
nine  were  to  hang  upon  the  limbs  at  some  conspicuous 
point  near  the  edge  of  the  creek-bank,  and  to  be 
brought  in  the  next  morning  upon  a  horse. 

As  this  was  my  first  experience  in  turkey-hunting, 
being  a  fair  shot,  I  of  course  expected  to  make  an 
"  average  "  bag  during  the  day. 

As  the  others  all  went  up  the  creek,  where  our  leader 
said  turkeys  were  most  abundant,  I  determined  to  go 
down  the  stream,  and  have  the  whole  field  in  that 
direction  to  myself.  It  was  a  beautiful  sunshiny  morn- 
ing in  December,  and  little  streaks  of  mellow  light 
straggled  in  through  the  tangled  growth  of  vines  and 
branches  overhead,  strewing  golden  patches  over  the 


36  HUNTING   STORIES. 

dark  gray  clothing  of  the  massive  trunks  between 
which  I  stole  with  soft  and  easy  tread.  * 

Not  a  breath  of  air  was  stirring,  and  in  picking 
my  way  among  the  great  bodies  of  the  white  oak,  elm 
and  cottonwood,  every  twig  unluckily  stepped  upon 
snapped  with  a  sharp,  spiteful  report  that  could  have 
been  heard  at  a  hundred  yards'  distance. 

The  stillness  and  this  cracking  of  brush  were  unfavor- 
able, yet  I  concluded  that  where  turkeys  were  so  thick 
and  so  tame  that  ten  or  fifteen  was  merely  the  aver- 
age bag  of  a  day's  hunt,  the  breaking  of  a  few  small 
sticks  could  be  no  great  obstacle  in  the  way  of  success. 

But  as  time  wore  on  in  the  same  ghost-like  stillness, 
broken  only  by  the  sound  of  my  own  foot-falls,  with 
not  even  a  sight  of  game  to  enliven  the  monotony  of 
the  tramp,  I  began  to  feel  somewhat  discouraged,  and 
rather  inclined  to  believe  that  the  "  Fat  Man's"  turkey 
stories  were  humbugs,  or  much  too  large  for  the 
expected  amount  of  truth  entering  into  them. 

For  six  long  hours  I  wandered  wearily  through  those 
woods,  wading  creeks,  scrambling  over  meshes  of 
tangled  vines,  wallowing  in  sweet-brier  thickets  that 
tore  my  clothing  and  scratched  my  body  in  a  hundred 
places,  and  was  not  rewarded  with  a  solitary  glimpse 
of  the  game  which  had  been  the  object  of  all  this 
tramping. 

I  made  my  way  campward,  firm  in  the  conviction 
that  Col.  W was  a  nuisance. 

The  first  object  which  met  my  eyes  upon  reaching 
the  camp  was  the  huge  hulk  of  this  same  Fat  Man, 
deposited  upon  my  new  blankets,  which  were  spread 
upon  the  ground  near  the  fire. 


HUNTING  STORIES.  37 

He  was  reclining  upon  one  elbow,  with  a  great 
flabby  hand  under  his  fat  face. 

He  didn't  look  a  bit  tired,  but  as  comfortable,  sleek 
and  well-fed  as  ever.  I  came  at  once  to  the  disgusted 
conclusion  that  he  hadn't  been  forty  rods  away  from 
the  "  wicky  up  "  during  that  whole  day. 

"  Kill  any  turkeys  ? "  I  asked,  with  a  sarcasm  born  of 
disgust. 

He  shook  his  head  gravely,  without  raising  his  eye- 
lids.   "  Too  still  for  huntin',"  he  muttered,  sleepily. 

I  attempted  no  further  conversation  with  him. 

Mac  came  straggling  in  shortly,  and  dropped  upon  a 
log  near  the  fire. 

He  said  nothing,  but  looked  as  though  he  might 
have  swallowed  another  bowie-knife,  and  for  once  have 
failed  in  extricating  the  weapon  from  his  stomach. 

At  any  rate,  I  had  not  the  heart  to  break  in  upon 
his  meditations,  and  the  colonel  still  gazed  contentedly 
at  the  end  of  his  nose. 

But  we  were  destined  for  a  surprise  soon.  At  sun- 
down Jack  and  Son  came  in  lugging  seven  great 
brownish-black  birds,  which,  upon  close  inspection, 
proved  to  be  turkeys.  Jack  had  killed  three  with  his 
Winchester  rifle,  and  Son  had  slain  the  others  with, 
an  old  single-barreled  shot-gun. 

We  were  all  elated.  The  turkeys  had  been  discov- 
ered at  last.  Even  the  colonel  roused  up,  and  deigned 
to  examine  the  birds.  They  were  not  as  large,  he 
said,  as  those  he  had  been  in  the  habit  of  finding,  but 
still  they  would  do  to  fry. 

"  Son,"  said  Mac,  as  we  sat  down  to  supper,  "  Son 
I'm  proud  of  you.  You  shall  go  with  me  to-morrow, 
and  stay  with  me  all  day,  too." 


38  HUNTING  STORIES. 

I  edged  around  near  the  young  freighter. 

"Jack,"  I  whisnered,  "let's  you  and  I  keep  together 
to-morrow." 

"  All  right ! "  he  replied. 

At  daylight  the  next  morning  we  two  started  off 
together,  leaving  the  others  busy  in  preparing  to  follow. 

"  Now,"  said  Jack,  after  we  had  crossed  the  creek 
and  were  out  of  hearing ;  "  now,  then,  you  just  pull 
yer  freights  right  on  my  trail  fer  about  an  hour,  an* 
I'll  take  you  to  where  there's  turkeys,  an'  lots  of  'em, 
though  they're  purty  wild.  The  fellers  from  the  Fort 
have  hunted  'em  all  the  fall.  There  ain't  no  use  in 
lookin'  fer  turkeys  through  no  such  big  woods  as  these 
here,  'cause  ther  ain't  nothin'  here  fer  'em  tu  eat. 
You've  got  ter  git  out  'mongst  the  hackberries  an' 
pecans." 

At  length  we  struck  the  mouth  of  a  sandy  creek,  and 
Jack  led  me  out  of  the  woods  and  on  to  the  prairie, 
where  the  walking  was  excellent. 

"  'Bout  two  miles  up  this  creek,"  remarked  he,  as 
we  hurried  forward,  "  jest  about  two  miles  on,  we'll 
take  into  the  woods  agin ;  but  ye  won't  find  no  sech 
woods  es  there  is  down  round  camp  an'  you'll  see 
turkeys  in  'em  too." 

A  half-hour  later  he  announced  himself  ready  to 
enter  the  nearest  grove. 

The  timber  was,  as  he  had  said,  small ;  little  more, 
in  fact,  than  a  dense  thicket  of  hackberry  poles  and 
young  pecans,  but  there  was  no  underbrush,  and  the 
ground  was  bare  of  all  growth  but  the  trees. 

Here's  where  we'll  find  'em,"  declared  my  compan- 
ion, sinking  his  voice  to  a  whisper,  and  halting  to  give 
instructions. 


HUNTING   STORIES.  89 

"Now,"  said  he,  "I  don't  b'lieve  we'd  best  keep 
together  in  here.  "We'll  git  more  shots  a  heap  to  go 
separate.  You  keep  'long  in  the  out  edge,  an'  I'll  take 
down  next  the  creek,  an' then  we'll  drive 'em  all  out 
ahead  of  us  inter  the  nex'  grove.  Ye  see,  this  here 
ground's  all  covered  in  hackberry  seed,  an'  this  is  jest 
the  time  o'  mornin'  they're  scattered  all  out  feedin'." 

"  All  right,  Jack ;  just  as  you  say,"  I  returned. 
"  Shall  we  meet  at  the  upper  end  of  this  grove  ? " 

He  nodded,  and  turning  away,  stole  silently  as  an 
Indian  down  towards  the  creek. 

Following  his  example  as  nearly  as  possible  in  my 
movements,  I  stole  forward  on  tiptoe  among  the  slen- 
der tree-trunks,  keeping  a  sharn  look-out  on  every  side 
for  any  appearance  of  game, 

I  had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards  when  my  ears  were 
assailed  by  a  chorus  of  Quit!  Quit!  Quit!  and  the 
ground  on  every  hand  seemed  suddenly  alive  with  big 
black  birds  scooting  away  from  me  on  all  sides. 

I  had  tiptoed  into  the  midst  of  a  whole  drove  of 
feeding  turkeys,  and  had  alarmed  them  before  seeing 
them. 

My  gun  was  quickly  at  my  face,  and  catching  sight 
at  a  vanishing  gobbler  over  its  polished  tubes,  I  fired 
and  secured  him. 

I  turned  to  shoot  again,  looking  in  all  directions, 
but  the  distant  pattering  of  foot-steps  growing  rapidly 
fainter  each  moment  was  all  that  rewarded  my  atten- 
tion. Not  a  thing  was  to  be  seen  save  bare  poles,  dry 
branches,  and  the  leaf -strewn  earth. 

Well  satisfied,  however,  with  my  first  shot  at  the 
wild  turkey,  I  chucked  a  loaded  shell  into  the  empty 
barrel,  took  up  my  bird — a  splendid  glossy  fellow,  with 


40  HUNTING  STOEIBS. 

a  pendant  brush  four  inches  in  length — and  made  my 
way  stealthily  forward  as  before. 

A  sharp  report  from  Jack's  Winchester  now  admon- 
ished me  that  he  too  had  found  game. 

Five  minutes  or  more  passed  in  silently  stealing 
through  the  hackberry  grove,  when  I  suddenly  came 
upon  an  open  clear  of  trees  of  any  description.  It  was 
a  large  field  of  dry  reeds  such  as  seldom  grow  so  far 
from  the  edges  of  streams  and  ponds. 

My  drove  of  turkeys  had  mostly  fled  in  this  direc- 
tion ;  perhaps  there  were  some  of  them  hiding  in  this 
same  reed-patch.  If  so — but  I  had  no  time  to  specu- 
late upon  the  problem  before  my  attention  was  arrested 
by  a  sudden  rustling  among  the  dry  stalks  just  ahead. 
Whuh  !  wihuh  !  whukl 'a  great  black  and  bronze  bird 
rose  not  twenty  feet  away,  and  as  he  flopped  off  in  a 
direct  line,  presented  a  mark  which  no  hunter  who  had 
not  lost  his  head  entirely  could  have  missed. 

My  Baker  ordered  a  sudden  halt  to  the  flying  bird. 
Another  rose  almost  instantly  at  the  report  and  dropped 
but  a  few  yards  to  the  right  of  the  first.  Greatly 
excited,  I  hastily  reloaded  and  hurried  forward  to 
secure  the  game.  The  first  bird  was  dead,  but  the 
other,  undoubtedly  winged,  had  taken  to  its  long  legs 
and  was  nowhere  to  be  found. 

I  left  the  patch  carrying  five — three  males  and  two 
hens.  Jack  met  me  at  the  appointed  place.  He  carried 
three  great  birds. 

My  confidence  in  the  Fat  Man  and  his  stirring  tales 
was  now  somewhat  revived,  and  it  began  to  seem  as 
though  with  hard  and  persistent  hunting  one  might 
average  ten  per  day  for  a  few  days  at  least. 

At  about  noon  Jack  and  I  built  a  fire,  and  we  dined 


HUNTING  STORIES.  41 

off  the  broiled  hearts  and  gizzards  of  turkeys,  eaten 
with  the  baking-powder  biscuits  brought  in  our  pockets 
— a  dinner  which  under  the  circumstances  we  relished 
greatly. 

That  afternoon  our  chase  proved  almost  a  failure ; 
we  hunted  until  sundown,  onty  securing  one  bird,  a 
lucky  wing-shot  from  the  Baker,  made  at  a  remarkable 
distance.  Just  before  sundown  we  ensconced  our- 
selves in  the  bed  of  a  dry,  sandy  run  near  the  edge  of 
a  large  grove,  and  but  a  few  yards  from  a  fresh  turkey- 
roost,  which  Jack  had  discovered  during  the  day. 

Turkeys  usually  roost  near  the  edge  of  the  prairie  or 
on  the  bank  of  a  stream,  and  when  they  go  to  roost  at 
night,  walk  out  upon  the  open  ground,  take  a  hard  run, 
then  rising  gradually  on  the  wing,  sail  easily  into  the 
top  of  the  desired  tree. 

If  you  can  find  the  roosting-place  and  hide  near  hyt 
or  succeed  in  crawling  under  them  after  dark,  you  are 
pretty  certain  to  make  a  bag  of  two  or  three,  or  if  they 
be  thick  upon  the  tree,  even  a  larger  number  may  be 
secured.  We  had  lain  upon  the  sand  under  the  over- 
hanging bushes  but  a  short  time  when  we  heard  a  rush 
of  wings  near  by,  and  the  next  instant  four  great  dark 
birds  sailed  over  our  heads  and  out  into  the  woods 
beyond. 

Jack  looked  at  me  in  disgusr.  "Knew  there  wasn't 
but  four  or  five  of  'em  roosting  here,"  he  said,  "  but  I 
didn't  reckon  they'd  be  so  mighty  sharp.  Ye  ^ee, 
they've  been  chased  all  day,  an'  they've  got  mighty 
cunnin'.  'Taint  no  use  to  hunt  'em  now,  only  when 
they're  feedin'  in  the  mornin'." 

We  both  rose  and  peered  through  the  tree-tops. 
There  was  but  one  to  be  seen,  seated  upon  the  topmost 


4R3  HUNTING  STORIES. 

bough  of  a  tall  tree  some  three  hundred  yards  away. 
Though  its  form  was  plainly  outlined  against  the  yel- 
low twilight  of  the  western  sky,  the  bird  did  not  look 
larger  than  a  small  chicken  from  where  we  stood. 

"  No  use  try  in'  to  git  under  'em  through  all  them 
sweet-briers  and  thick  brush ;  he's  too  skeery." 

"Jack,"  said  I,  "you  can  show  me  a  long  shot 
now." 

"  All  right,  boss,"  he  answered,  in  a  pleased  voice. 
"It's  gettin'  powerful  dim  here  in  the  woods,  but  I 
can  see  my  sights  plain  against  that  sky,  an'  you  jest 
watch  that  old  feller  a  minute,  please." 

Instead  I  watched  Jack's  steady  motion,  as  he  raised 
the  Winchester  to  his  face.  He  certainly  could  not  hit 
so  small  a  mark  at  such  a  distance,  even  in  broad  day- 
light. 

For  several  seconds  the  young  hunter  stood  motion- 
less as  a  monument,  his  lithe  figure  growing  uncertain 
amid  the  shadows  that  seemed  momentarily  growing 
higher  among  the  tree-trunks ;  then  his  face  was  lit  up 
for  a  brief  instant  by  a  bright  blaze  of  light  from  the 
muzzle  of  his  rifle,  and  the  woods  rang  with  its  sharp, 
spiteful  report. 

Instantly  lifting  my  gaze  to  the  distant  tree-top,  in 
utter  astonishment  I  saw  the  turkey  roll  off  its  high 
perch,  and  plunge  down  into  the  darkness. 

Fairly  satisfied  with  our  bag  of  ten  turkeys,  we  left 
eight  of  them  hanging  at  the  noon  camp,  and  after  a 
hard,  adventurous  tramp,  reached  the  Cache  camp  late 
in  the  evening. 

The  boys  were  all  in,  and  all  but  the  colonel  had  met 
with  fair  success.  The  Fat  Man  had  remained  at  camp 
to  guard  the  horses  and  camp  equipage. 


HUNTIMG  STOKIBS.  43 

He  did  not  kill  a  single  bird  while  we  were  out. 
Five  days  later  we  drove  into  the  town  of  Gr — -with 
half  a  wagon-load  of  turkeys,  and  as  we  were  tired  and 
hungry,  unloaded,  stowed  them  away  in  the  colonel's 
shooting-gallery,  and  repaired  to  our  various  places  of 
resort  for  supper  and  rest. 

The  next  morning  upon  gathering  at  the  gallery  to 
divide  the  spoils,  we  found  a  new  proprietor  in  charge. 
The  turkeys  had  been  sold  to  parties  in  town,  and  the 
famous  Fat  Man  had  gone,  no  one  knew  when  or  in 
what  direction.    Numerous  creditors  mourned  his  loss. 

It  was  near  the  holiday  season,  and  the  birds  sold 
well.  I  could  but  think  how  differently  we  provide  for 
the  table  on  the  Red  Eiver  than  do  our  friends  in  the 
East.  Here  nature  furnishes  the  stores  for  which 
others  toil  in  different  manner.  Generous,  indeed,  in 
the  far  West  are  the  gifts  of  the  autumn  and  the  early 
winter  days. 


V 


V 

THE  BIRD-CATCHER'S  ADVENTURE. 

The  catching,  taming  and  training  of  young  mocking, 
birds  is  a  favorite  pastime  with  numbers  of  young 
people  living  in  the  vicinity  of  New  Orleans  and  other 
cities  of  the  South  and  .Southwest.  It  often  proves  a 
quite  profitable  pursuit,  too ;  for  the  bird-fanciers,  who 
buy  for  Northern  or  foreign  markets,  pay  from  five  to 
eight  dollars  for  a  trained  singer,  and  the  young  birds, 
when  first  caught,  will  bring  fifty  cents  a  pair. 

As  may  be  imagined,  however,  there  are  far  more 
"catchers"  than  "  trainers,"  since  there  are  three  some- 
what rare  qualifications  necessary  to  the  trainer's  success 
in  rearing  a  mocking-bird  singer. 

First  of  these  necessities  may  be  mentioned  a  natural 
sympathy  with,  and  recognition  of,  the  modes  and 
peculiarities  of  the  bird ;  that  is  to  say,  the  trainer 
must  be  a  bit  of  a  naturalist  by  instinct,  with  a  touch 
of  the  imaginative  in  his  study  of  the  bird's  habits. 
Second,  it  is  quite  necessary  that  he  should  possess  some 
musical  accomplishment  or  play  some  piping  instru- 
ment, and  do  this  fairly. 

The  third  condition  to  success  is  tnat  of  favorable 
surroundings.  That  locality  where  may  be  heard  the 
greatest  variety  of  out-door  musical  sounds  is  certainly 
the  most  favorable  to  the  rearing  of  a  good  singer.  As 
is  well  known,  however,  there  are  many  unmusical 
sounds  which  will  suggest  a  strain  or  a  snatch  of 
unwonted  song  to  the  ear  of  this  delightful  bird  ;  the 

44 


HUNTING    STOBIES.  45 

whine  of  a  dog  or  the  mewing  of  a  oat  are  often  quite 
exactly  imitated. 

Johnny  Trumbull,  a  Northern-born  lad  who  lives  m 
the  famous  "  Cross  Timbers,"  of  Central  Texas,  is  a 
bird-catcher,  who,  with  favorable  location,  combines 
the  personal  qualifications  above  hinted  at.  His  home 
is  surrounded  by  hills,  rocks,  and  the  beautiful  post-oak 
and  live-oak  of  this  peculiarly  attractive  region ;  a 
region  too,  which  in  birds,  animals,  reptiles  and  an 
innumerable  variety  of  insects,  is  a  very  paradise, 
indeed,  for  one  who  is  blessed  with  the  tastes  of  a 
naturalist. 

He  catches  and  rears  but  few  birds,  however,  and 
never  sends  a  bird  to  market  until  it  has  become  an 
accomplished  singer.  It  is  his  special  business  to  rear 
extra  good  singers,  and  he  leaves  the  wholesale  trade  to 
those  who  have  no- higher  artistic  ambition.  His  birds 
are  never  sent  out  with  less  than  a  year's  tutelage,  and 
should  one  of  them  prove  rather  dull,  or  lacking  in 
quality  of  voice,  he  opens  the  cage-door  and  sets  it 
free. 

Twice  each  year  Mr.  Trumbull  makes  a  business  trip 
to  the  city  of  New  Orleans,  and  the  train  that  carries 
him  conveys  also  a  half-dozen  or  more  of  Johnny's 
bird-cages,  each  containing  one  or  two  rare  singers. 
He  has  made  some  remarkable  sales  for  the  lad,  one 
bird  bringing  the  fine  sum  of  twenty-five  dollars,  and 
the  total  quite  frequently  reaching  one  hundred.  As 
the  gentleman  stays  in  the  city  two  or  three  weeks 
each  time,  the  fancier  to  whom  he  takes  the  birds  has 
ample  opportunity  to  test  their  powers  and  to  price 
them  accordingly. 

The  mocking-bird,  like  the  quail,  is  a  quite  domestic 


46  HUNTING  STOKIES. 

little  creature,  and  often  builds  its'  nest  in  the  immedi- 
ate vicinity  of  human  habitations.  The  Cross  Timbers 
seem  to  be  the  natural  summer  home  of  these  birds. 
All  day  long  the  woods  and  hills  are  "  tintinnabulat- 
ing  " — if  I  may  use  such  a  word — with  their  trilling 
melodies ;  and  I  have  never  seen  them  so  numerous 
elsewhere. 

They  are  caged  and  carefully  fed  for  a  few  weeks, 
when,  in  response  to  the  singing  of  other  birds  and  the 
variety  of  musical  sounds  with  which  the  young  trainer 
regales  them,  they  begin  to  ruffle  their  feathers,  cock 
their  little  heads  on  one  side,  swell  tb,eir  youthful 
throats  and  imitate. 

"When  one  of  them  "gets  a  going  in  good  style," 
Johnny  carries  its  cage  out  into  the  door-yard,  seats 
himself  beside  it,  and  assails  the  little  fellow  with  a 
volley  of  warbling  notes  and  quivering  trills.  If  it  be 
quick  and  apt,  with  a  good  range  of  voice,  it  will  respond 
at  once,  catching  here  and  there  a  cord  and  nearly 
bursting  its  small  throat  with  its  "  Quttlopy — willopy — 
quirk — a — wirh — sweet—  tweets  !  " 

If  the  bird  be  at  all  lively  and  emulative,  Johnny 
will  soon  work  the  little  chap  into  a  perfect  frenzy  of 
mad  musicalness,  in  which  it  loses  all  desire  to  imitate 
and  launches  out  with  wild  improvisations  of  its  own. 
Then  the  lad  studies  its  moods,  and  whistles  or  plays 
accordingly.  When  the  bird  feels  gay  and  festive,  he 
whistles  his  liveliest  tunes  ;  when,  as  is  often  the  case, 
its  song  grows  pensive  and  sad  in  tone,  he  plays  low, 
sweet  strains  upon  the  harmonica.  Then,  also,  the 
oage  often  hangs  in  the  sunshine,  in  the  out-door  air  all 
day  long,  and  other  out-door  songsters  are  brought 
into  requisition  as  trainers. 


HOTJTSNG  STORIES.  47 

But  Johnny  has  other  pets  besides  his  mocking- 
birds ;  a  tame  antelope,  an  opossum,  a  pair  of  jack-rab- 
bits, and  of  the  feathered  tribe  an  eagle,  a  raven,  a 
"  scissor-tail "  (paradise  bird),  and  several  varieties  of 
the  beautiful  Southern  red-bird.  And  my  story  is  of 
an  adventure  which  befell  him  while  on  a  bird-hunting 
trip  last  summer ;  it  occurred,  in  fact,  at  the  time  he 
secured  the  eagle  now  numbered  among  his  pets. 

This  eaglet  Johnny  captured  from  a  nest  in  the  top 
of  a  tall  oak,  back  of  Quarry  Peak,  a  long,  ledge- 
crowned  ridge,  distant  a  mile  and  a  half  from  his  home. 
On  his  return  from  the  trip  to  the  eyrie,  he  had  deter- 
mined to  cross  the  crest  of  the  ridge  and  descend  the 
crags,  instead  of  making  a  circuit  of  it,  as  he  had  done 
in  going  to  the  nest.  The  ledge  does  not  average  more 
than  forty  feet  in  height,  but  in  most  places  on  that 
side  it  was  so  steep  that  ascent  was  impossible,  and  at 
any  point  quite  arduous.  There  were  two  places,  how- 
ever, which  Johnny  had  discovered  in  his  rambles  and 
hunting  excursions,  where  the  ragged,  jutting  rocks 
afforded  a  sort  of  stairway  which  might  be  descended 
by  a  hunter  with  steady  nerves  and  flexible  muscles. 
At  both  these  places  there  were  points  where  the 
descent  must  be  made  by  dropping  from  the  edge  of 
one  rock  to  the  top  of  another  six  or  eight  feet  below. 

Having  the  eagle  as  an  incumbrance,  Johnny  this 
time  selected  what  he  considered  the  safer  "  stairway," 
and  strapping  the  bird  -to  his  back,  began  carefully 
getting  down.  He  had  got  about  half-way  to  the  bot- 
tom of  this  niche  in  the  ledge,  and  had  just  dropped 
from  an  overhanging  "  step "  of  the  stairway  to  the 
broad,  flat  surface  of  the  one  next  below  it,  when  a 


HUNTING 

laintive,  half-human  cry  reached  his  ears,  iatMuiOg  to 
come  from  the  base  of  the  crag  beneath. 

A  cold  chill  crept  all  over  the  boy's  flesh  and  set  all 
his  nerves  a-tingle  with  fearful  sensations.  He  had 
heard  that  cry  before. 

A  great  branching  oak  with  limbs  shadowing  the 
jagged  rocks  and  almost  touching  them,  had  grown  up 
from  below.  He  peeped  cautiously  down  through  its 
foliage,  not  daring  to  make  the  slightest  noise  and 
almost  fearing  to  breathe. 

He  could  see  nothing. 

But  soon  again  that  wailing,  womanish  cry  came 
quivering  up  from  below.  Johnny  clenched  his  hands 
and  set  his  teeth  hard  to  keep  from  giving  way  to  his 
terror. 

It  was  the  prolonged,  moaning  caterwaul  of  a  pan- 
ther. Johnny  had  never  heard  one  in  the  daytime 
before ;  but  now  he  remembered  a  large,  long  crevice 
in  the  rocks  near  the  foot  of  the  big  oak ;  he  knew 
instinctively  that  there  must  be  a  den  of  these  danger- 
ous beasts  beneath  him,  and  that  he  had  just  heard  the 
plaintive  scream  of  a  young  one  calling  to  its  dam. 

Immediately  the  cry  was  repeated.  Johnny  listened 
intently.  It  began  in  a  soft  minor  key,  sliding  gently 
upward  to  a  thrilling,  heart-moving  climax,  then  dying 
gradually  away  in  a  woefully  pathetic  and  wistful 
cadence.  Yes,  it  was  a  young  one,  there  was  not  vol- 
ume enough  of  sound  to  have  come  from  the  lungs  of 
a  full-grown  panther.  But  where  was  the  old  mother- 
beast  ? 

Should  he  gojip  or  down  ?  He  had  no  weapons  with 
him  save  his  jack-knife  and  a  small  pocket  revolver,  a 
mere  toy ;  and  with  panthers  he  concluded  that  the 


HUNTING-  STORIES.  49 

knife  was  equally  to  be  relied  upon  with  the  pistol. 
He  cast  his  eyes  wistfully  at  the  rugged,  disheartening 
rocks  above,  and  then  bent  forward  and  took  another 
anxious  look  among  the  limbs  and  brush  below. 

While  bending  over  thus,  the  shadow  of  some  flying 
thing  seemed  suddenly  to  pass  over  him  ;_there  was  an 
ominous  rattle  of  loosened  stones  above  and  a  rustling 
shook  among  the  upper  branches  of  the  tree.  Then  on 
the  instant,  another  shrill  scream,which  now  seemed  to 
come  up  triumphantly  from  the  foot  of  the  ledge,  was 
answered  by  a  snarling  cry  from  the  oak-top. 

Johnny  knew  just  what  had  happened,  and  crouched 
quite  faint  and  limp  with  fright,  upon  the  shelf  of 
rock.  For  a  few  moments  he  dared  not  look  upward, 
then  another  horrible  snarl  and  a  ripping  of  bark 
among  the  high  limbs  drew  his  eyes  irresistibly  up- 
ward. At  the  sight  which  met  his  gaze,  he  shrank  and 
cowered  still  closer  beneath  the  overhanging  rock  from 
which  he  had  dropped  but  a  moment  before. 

The  old  panther  was  there,  the  mother  of  the  young, 
at  the  base  of  the  ledge.  Swaying  to  and  fro,  she 
clung  to  a  branch  and  glared  fiercely  upon  him,  her 
white  fangs  gleaming  as  the  lip  quivered  in  rage  above 
them.  Through  the  shaking  foliage  the  lad  could  see 
her  lithe,  tawny  body  stretched  back  in  a  crouching 
attitude  along  the  bending  branch,  as  if  about  to  leap 
down  upon  him,  while  the  snarling  cries   grew  louder. 

Johnny  tried  to  think,  to  plan  briefly,  some  way  of 
escape  or  defense.  If  he  leaped  down,  the  danger  of 
an  attack  would  be  increased  he  feared.  If  he 
attempted  to  climb  back  up  the  rocks,  he  must  approach 
nearer  to  the  angry  beast,  already  at  such  frightfully 
close  quarters. 


50 


HUNTING   STORIES. 


The  bird-catcher's  dilemma  was  a  terrible  one. 

For  several  moments  the  beast  kept  her  menacing 
attitude.  At  length,  puzzled,  perhaps,  or  awed  by  the 
death-like  stillness  and  steady  eyes  of  the  lad,  the 
animal  ceased  her  threatening  manoeuvres  abruptly 
and  turned  round  upon  the  branch  as  if  to  descend  or 
go  back  up  the  cliff.  But  just  then  the  wailing  cry  of 
the  young  one  rose  again,  when  as  if  mistrusting 
treachery  on  Johnny's  part  towards  her  cub,  the  old 
panther  suddenly  whirled  about,  and  at  a  single  bound 
landed  on  the  shelving  rock  beside  his  body. 


With  an  involuntary  yell  of  horror,  the  boy  kicked 
out  both  feet  spasmodically,  and  with  such  violence 
that  his  boot-heels,  striking  plump  against  the  beast, 
pitched  her  off  the  narrow  edge  of  the  rock.     But  even 


HUNTING   STORIES.  51 

as  she  fell  over,  the  agile  brute,  quwling  about, 
struck  her  claws  into  his  legs  and  drew  him  after  her. 

As  he  slid  off,  Johnny  threw  a  desperate  clutch  at  a 
branch  of  the  oak  a  little  below,  and  grasping  it  with 
both  hands,  stayed  his  fall — though  a  part  of  each  leg 
of  his  pantaloons  disappeared  down  the  crag  in  the 
panther's  claws. 

In  an  ecstasy  of  terror,  he  drew  himself  on  the  bend- 
ing limb  and  got  to  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  expecting 
every  instant  that  the  fierce  creature  would  be  upon 


But  having  found  her  kit,  the  old  beast  was,  perhaps, 
reassured  and  content;  and  our  young  naturalist, 
climbing  hurriedly  upward,  swung  off  upon  the  rocks 
higher  up  and  escaped  to  the  top  of  the  crag.  As  he 
made  off,  the 'eaglet  shook  its  rumpled  feathers  and 
gaped  dolefully ;  the  breath  had  been  nearly  jammed 
out  of  it  by  the  weight  of  its  captor's  body  as  he  lay 
on  the  shelf  of  rock,  with  the  panther  watching  him. 

The  week  following,  one  of  their  neighbors,  to  whom 
Johnny  had  recounted  his  adventure,  succeeded  in 
trapping  the  old  panther  at  the  foot  of  the  oak  and 
capturing  the  young  one  by  throwing  a  horse  blanket 
over  it.  The  little  creature  was  offered  to  Johnny  as 
a  pet,  but  he  declined  to  undertake  its  education,  his 
interest  centering  in  birds  rather  than  in  the  felidce. 


VI. 

▲  FISH-STORY. 

To  the  lover  of  rod  and  gun  who  needs  a  change  of 
air  and  a  few  months  of  out-door  recreation,  few  places 
can  be  more  interesting  than  the  region  of  the  Upper 
Red  River. 

There  is  a  strip  of  country  about  one  hundred  miles 
in  breadth  along  this  stream  and  its  branches, 
including  the  middle  and  western  frontiers  of  northern 
Texas,  and  also  the  south  and  southwest  of  the  Indian 
Territory,  which,  if  not  a  veritable  "  hunters  paradise," 
is  at  least  plentifully  stocked  with  a  large  variety  of 
game.  Deer,  antelope,  turkey,  wild  goose,  duck,  crane 
and  prairie  chicken  abound  there,  while  smaller  varie- 
ties of  game,  the  "  Jack,"  or  "  mule  ear,"  the  common 
rabbit  and  the  quail  are  almost  overabundant. 

In  the  deep  woods  that  skirt  the  "  Nation  branches" 
of  the  Red  may  be  found  the  bear,  panther,  wild  cat, 
wild  hog  and  opossum.  In  winter  the  waters  and 
sand-bars  of  the  Red  River  are  a  famous  resort  for  wild 
geese,  and  the  fields  belonging  to  the  scattering  farms 
along  the  south  bank  are  often  seen  swarming  with 
crane,  geese  and  brant.  There  is  plenty  of  hunting  in 
the  region  for  at  least  six  months  in  the  year,  and  of 
the  most  exciting  sort,  too. 

But  there  is  fish  as  well  as  other  game,  for  Red 
River  and  all  its  deeper  branches  are  well  stocked  with 
great  "  cats,"  buffalo-fish,  red-horse  and  sucker. 

The  writer's  notions  of  fishing  -as  a  business  had 

53 


HUNTING   STORIES.  .    53 

been  pretty  much  confined  to  sea-coasts  and  lake-shores, 
until  he  became  acquainted  with  several  persons  on 
the  banks  of  these  streams  who  make  a  living,  and  a 
good  one,  by  catching  the  great  lazy  cats  and  buffaloes 
that  loll  about  the  bottoms  of  the  Red  and  its  tribu- 
taries. 

Of  course,  there  is  nothing  in  the  operations  of  these 
individual  fishermen  that  is  worthy  the  name  of  com- 
merce, and  their  work  is  lacking  in  the  exciting 
romance  of  the  rolling  wave  and  the  smacking  breeze 
of  the  sea,  but  these  lone  fishers  sometimes  meet  with 
exciting  adventures  nevertheless.  Trot-line  fishing 
may,  as  a  usual  thing,  prove  tame  business;  but  when 
you  are  required  to  detach  from  the  main  line  a  forty- 
pound  cat,  and  bring  him  safely  to  land,  or  pull  him 
into  your  boat,  you  are  quite  likely  to  have  a  lively 
time  of  it,  and  to  conclude  when  the  task  is  ended — 
if  indeed  the  attempt  is  not  a  complete  failure — that 
you  have  had  excitement  enough  for  one  day. 

Forty  pounds  sounds  pretty  large,  but  there  are  fish 
of  even  twice  that  size  in  these  very  streams,  and  it  is 
with  the  catching  of  one  of  these  giant  cats  that  my 
story  has  to  deal. 

Aleck  and  Sam  Mosby  are  two  stout  lads,  who  live 
with  their  widowed  mother  upon  a  small  farm  on  the 
south  bank  of  Bed  Kiver.  Their  father  died  in  New 
Orleans,  some-  years  ago,  of  yellow  fever,  and  since 
that  time  the  boys  have  been  the  main  stay  of  the 
widow  and  their  two  young  sisters.  They  have  but 
little  land  under  cultivation,  and  in  fact  the  soil  bakes 
so  hard  in  the  heat  of  the  summer  sun  that  not  much 
can  be  raised,  except  in  the  garden,  where  they  keep 
the  earth  constantly  loosened  with  their  heavy  hoes. 


54  HUNTING   STOKIES. 

But  the  sterility  of  the  land  gives  these  enterprising 
youths  very  little  uneasiness,  so  long'  as  the  streams 
are  stocked  with  fish,  and  the  annual  season  of  bird- 
migration  brings  thousands  of  geese  and  brant  flocking 
into  the  river  and  among  the  fields  above  and  below. 

Twenty  miles  away  is  the  frontier  railroad-town  of 
H ,  a  lively  place,  and  the  home  of  a  score  of  "  cat- 
tle men,"  worth  half  a  million  or  more.  Fish  and 
game  find  a  ready  market  here,  at  good  prices,  for  what 
is  not  consumed  at  home  can  be  easily  shipped  to  the 
large  towns  east  and  north,  or  on  the  Gulf  coast. 

Thus  Aleck  and  Sam  are  able  with  fish  net,  trot-line 
and  gun  to  support  their  small  family  in  comfort ;  and 
with  the  aid  of  the  garden,  the  cows  and  butter,  they 
even  manage  to  lay  by  a  small  sum  each  year. 

"It  seems  like  a  shiftless  kind  of  life,"  says  the 
widow,  "  this  hunting  and  fishing  ;  but  the  boys  work 
real  faithful  in  the  garden  at  whatever  they're 
a  doing ;  and  they  buy  a  good  many  books  to  study  in 
the  long  evenings.  So  I  believe  they're  going  to  come 
out  all  right  in  the  end." 

Scarcely  a  week  goes  by  during  the  months  in  which 
game  can  be  preserved,  that  either  Sam  or  Aleck  does 
not  go  to  town  driving  a  span  of  mules  hitched 
to  the  spring  wagon,  laden  with  twenty  or  thirty  dol- 
lars' worth  of  fish  and  birds.  Surely  there's  not  much 
"shiftlessness"  about  such  a  thrifty  business  as  that. 

Their  fishing  operations  are  mostly  confined  to  a 
large,  deep  pond,  formed  at  the  mouth  of  a  fine  creek, 
— one  of  the  largest  of  the  "  Nation  branches  " — which 
empties  into  Red  River,  nearly  opposite  their  dwelling. 
This  pond,  or  rather  deep  hole,  is  some  half  a  mile  in 
length,  and  has  been  formed  by  the  peculiar  shifting 


HUNTING   STORIES.        ,,  55 

process  with  which  the  longer  stream  manages  so  often 
to  change  the  channel  of  its  water  course. 

The  red  sands  of  the  bottom  have  been  banked  up  at 
the  mouth  of  the  creek  until,  in  this  case,  a  permanent 
dam  has  been  formed,  and  the  original  channel  is  com- 
pletely blocked.  The  water  finds  an  outlet  at  the  lower 
end  of  the  bar,  however,  running  over  in  a  shallow, 
swift  current,  that  is  not  easily  ascended  in  a  row-boat. 

The  boys  "pole"  their  skiff  through  this  channel, 
and  then  find  themselves  floating  easily  upon  the  deep, 
narrow  sheet  above,  which  nearly  fills  the  bank  of  the 
creek  for  some  distance  back  into  the  woods. 

This  hole  of  water,  in  many  places  twenty  feet  deep, 
is  the  home  of  the  largest  cat  and  buffalo  known  to  the 
channels  of  the  Upper  Red  and  its  branches.  But  the 
fish  are  scarcely  more  at  home  than  the  fishers,  for 
Sam  and ,  Aleck  go  the  rounds  of  their  trot-lines  and 
take  the  big  fellows  in  in  a  way  that  would  do  credit 
to  the  ingenuity  of  more  experienced  fishermen  than 
they. 

Their  trot-lines  consist  of  large  ropes  stretched 
across  the  channel,  an  end  tied  to  a  tree  on  either 
bank  and  knotted  once  in  six  feet  for  the  whole  length. 
Each  of  these  knots  holds  a  small  iron  ring,  from 
which  depends,  fastened  with  a  common  harness-snap, 
a  stout  line  and  hook,  the  latter  baited  with  fresh 
meat  and  reaching  nearly  to  the  bottom  of  the  chan- 
nel. The  big  cat  and  buffalo  feed  low  down  in  the 
water,  and  must  be  baited  in  their  favorite  haunts  if 
caught  at  all. 

The  boys'  method  of  landing  these  big  fish  is  ingen- 
ious. In  the  stern  of  their  boat  is  a  stout,  free  roller, 
wound  with  a  heavy  reel-line.     A  ring  in  the  end  of 


56  HUNTING   STORIES. 

this  line  allows  them  to  take  off  the  short  line,  upon 
which  the  fish  is  hooked,  and  take  him  in  tow.  If 
the  fish  be  an  extra  large  one,  the  ring  of  the  reel-line 
can  be  placed  within  the  snap  before  it  is  unhooked 
from  the  rope,  and  then  the  stout  denizen  of  the 
waters  is  allowed  to  amuse  himself  on  the  reel  until 
tired,  when  he  is  drawn  to  the  top  and  landed  by  the 
aid  of  a  boat-hook. 

One  foggy  morning  last  October,  they  repaired  as 
usual  to  the  trot-lines,  of  which  they  then  had  three, 
thrown  across  the  "  Hole  in  the  Cache,"  as  they  have 
named  the  long  pond ;  and  upon  nearing  the  first 
stringer,  discovered  that  something  unusual  had 
occurred.  The  rope,  which  had  been  drawn  quite 
taut  several  feet  above  the  water,  was  pulled  down- 
ward at  a  point  near  the  middle  until  several  yards  of 
its  length  were  completely  submerged. 

l<  Must  be  a  whale  or  an  alligator  on  that  line ! " 
cried  Aleck.  "Just  look,  Sam!  It's  done  pulled 
clean  under  water,  an*  stretched  harder'n  a  barbed 
wire,  an'  'taint  much  bigger,  neither." 

Sam  was  as  much  astonished  as  his  brother. 

"  There  ain't  no  alligators  here,  Aleck,"  he  answered, 
gazing  at  the  line  with  wide-open  eyes.  "  But  I  don't 
know  but  you're  right  about  the  whale." 

Aleck  was  in  the  bow  of  the  boat,  while  Sam  had 
been  seated- in  the  stern,  paddling,  until  this  event  had 
caused  him  to  rise  and  stare  wonderingJ.y  through  the 
light  fog. 

"Well,  don't  let's  stand  gaping  here  any  longer," 
exclaimed  Aleck,  at  length.  "  Do  you  paddle  her  for- 
ward easy,  Sam,  till  I  can  reach  down  in  the  water  an* 
find  that  rope.    We'll  soon  know  what's  got  a-hold  of 


HUNTI1«S  STORIES.  57 

that  hook.  Good  thing  them  lines  are  linen  and  stout 
enough  to  hold  a  horse,  or  else  that  one'd  break,  sure. 
I  reckon,  though,  that  the  rope'd  snap  afore  one  o' 
them  lines." 

By  the  time  he  had  ceased  speaking,  the  prow  of  the 
skiff  was  directly  over  the  centre  of  the  submerged 
rope,  and  in  a  trice  Aleck  was  down  on  his  knees,  with 
an  arm  thrust  into  the  water. 

"  Mebbe,"  said  he,  "  an  old  wet  log's  rolled  down 
with  the  under-current  and  caught  the  hook,  for  you 
see  it's  sort  a  bent  down-stream.  No,  it  ain't ! "  he 
exclaimed,  excitedly ; "  there's  a  " — but  before  he  could 
finish,  the  rope  upon  which  he  was  tugging  flew  out  of 
,his  hand  and  straightened  up  with  a  "swish,"  catching 
the  rim  of  his  hat  as  it  went,  and  throwing  that  article 
clean  over  the  boat's  stern  and  into  the  water  beyond. 

The  next  instant  there  was  a  deep  swirl  in  the  water 
just  ahead  of  the  prow,  then  a  heavy  splash,  another 
little  eddying  whirlpool,  and  then  a  quick  strain  at  the 
rope  which  wrenched  it  down  to  the  water's  edge 
again. 

"  Back  water  !  back  water ! "  shouted  Aleck,  seizing 
one  of  the  oars  which  had  been  shipped  and  paddling 
furiously  at  the  bow.  "  Back  water,  Sam.  Fetch  the 
stern  'round  an'  get  the  reel  ring  into  the  snap  quick- 
er'n  lightnin ' !  Another  sech  a  jerk'll  break  that 
_rope." 

The  boat  was  brought  about  with  a  sudden  energy 
that  nearly  pitched  Aleck  over  the  prow. 

"I've  got  the  reel-ring  snapped,"  cried  Sam  a  moment 
later,  "  but  how'll  I  get  the  other  ring  out  ?  The  old 
fellow's  quiet  just  now,  but  he's  pulling  like  a  steam- 


58  HUNTING   STORIES. 

engine,  an'  if  I  try  to  pull  him  in  an'  unhook  his  line, 
I'm  afraid  he'll  cut  up  again  an'  break  it." 

"I  don't  know  how  we'll  fix  it,"  returned  Aleck, 
anxiously;  "  but  we  must  have  that  old  fellow;  why, 
Sam,  he's  as  big  as  you  or  me,  but — there — now's  your 
time !    Quick !  he's  slackened  up  for  another  rush." 

Sam  had  the  snap  free  from  the  trot-line  ring  before 
his  brother  ceased  speaking.  And  none  too  soon, 
either,  for  the  great  fish  made  another  quick  run  and 
shot  away  up-stream  at  a  surprising  rate  of  speed.  The 
roller  fairly  whistled  as  the  line  reeled  off,  but  Aleck 
soon  had  the  oars  working,  and  a  lively  chase  began. 

"  We  ought  to  keep  up  with  a  cat-fish !  "  cried  Sam, 
as  he  saw  that  in  spite  of  his  brother's  exertions  the 
line  was  still  fast  paying  out.  "  You  ain't  a  goin'  to  do 
it  though,  Aleck,  'less  you  work  livelier'n  this.  The 
reel-line  never'll  hold  that  old  monster — 'tain't  stout 
enough,  an'  it's  mighty  nigh  paid  out  now." 

Aleck  did  his  best,  but,  not  a  minute  later,  the  roller 
stopped  and  the  line  snapped. 

"  There,  we've  lost  him ! "  shouted  Sam,  in  disgust, 
as  he  saw  the  broken  end  of  the  line  rapidly  retreating 
up  stream. 

"  Grab  the  paddle !  jump  over  behind  here  an*  help ! :; 
yelled  Aleck.  "  He  won't  go  out  of  the  hole,  an'  we'll 
pick  up  the  line  again  at  the  other  end." 

"Aleck  was  right ;  the  fish  slackened  his  speed  soon, 
and  Sam  gathered  in  the  end  of  the  still  floating  line. 

"  You  take  the  oars,  Sam,  and  let  me  handle  him  this 
time,  please,"  said  Aleck,  coaxingly. 

Sam  reluctantly  exchanged  places.  He  wasn't  so 
stout  as  Aleck,  and  he  did  want  to  secure  that  fish. 

Aleck  slowly  hauled  in  the  slack,  and  then  with  great 


HUNTING-   STORIES.  59 

caution  felt  the  mouth  of  his  victim.  But  the  fellow 
was  gamey,  and  didn't  propose  to  stand  any  trifling. 
He  turned  his  course  and  ran  swiftly  down  stream, 
coming  almost  directly  towards  the  boat. 

"-Now,  then,"  said  Aleck,  exultingly,  "  now,  then, 
we'll  have  him  an'  no  mistake.  Jest  wait  till  he  gets 
past,  Sam,  an'  then  show  what  you're  made  of  for  half 
a  minute,  an'  then  that  old  cat  can  do  the  rest  of  our 
rowing." 

In  a  few  seconds  the  line  had  doubled  and  the  far- 
ther string  was  gently  rippling  past,  not  ten  feet  dis- 
tant from  the  boat's  side. 

"  All  ready,"  said  Aleck,  and  away  went  the  boat. 
The  young  fisherman  now  began  rapidly  hauling  in  the 
line.    He  would  not  trust  th«  roller  again. 

The  line  was  soon  drawn  taut,  and  bracing  himself 
in  the  bow,  Aleck  carefully  tested  the  powers  of  the 
runaway.  The  boat  forged  ahead,  and  the  line  showed 
no  signs  of  yielding.  Aleck  gave  the  command  to  quit 
rowing,  and  a  moment  afterwards  the  boat  was  gliding 
along  close  in  shore,  with  no  other  motive  power  than 
that  given  by  the  gigantic  cat  which  had  thus  been 
made  to  take  them  in  tow. 

"  "We'll  soon  tire  him  out  now,  Sam,"  said  Aleck,  in 
triumph ;  "  and  how's  this  for  a  free  ride  ? " 

"  But  you've  got  the  line  wound  round  your  hand 
an'  wrist,  Aleck,"  said  Sam.  "  Remember  there's  big 
snags  just  under  water  along  here,  an'  if  we  should 
strike  one,  you'd  be  in  a  nice  fix." 

"  Oh,  I  can  hold  any  cat  there  is  in  here,"  answered 
the  other,  confidently.  "  All  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  he'll 
break  the  line,  an'  then  he'll  go  over  the  riffle  into  the 
river,  as  they  do  sometimes  when  they're  hard-pushed. 


60  HUNTING  STORIES. 

You  know  we've  lost  two  old  whoppers  that  way,  an' 
I  believe  this  one's  goin'  to  try  it.  See,  we  ain't  fifty 
yards  from  the  end  of  the  bar  an'  he's  goin'  yet;  there 
won't  be  no  " 

Aleck  concluded  not  to-finish  that  sentence.  A  sud- 
den conviction  seemed  to  have  seized  upon  his  mind 
that  he  ought  to  take  an  immediate  cold-water  bath. 

At  any  rate,  he  took  a  meteoric  header  over  the  bow 
of  the  boat.  A  sudden  plunge,  a  glimmer  of  heels  at 
the  agitated  surface  of  the  water,  and  the  astonished 
eyes  of  Sam  sought  in  vain  for  any  trace  of  his 
brother. 

Sam,  himself,  had  received  a    considerable   shook 
from  the  striking  of  the  boat  against  a  sudden  stub ' 
projecting  from  the  bank.    He  thought  nothing  of 
this,  however,  but  really  began  to  feel  alarmed  about 
Aleck. 

Could  it  be  that  the  big  fish  had  drawn  his  brother 
under  and  swallowed  him  ? 

It  seemed  an  age  as  he  stood  staring  blankly  at  the 
water,  before  he  saw  the  rise  of  a  dozen  bubbles, 
which  preceded  the  popping  up  of  Aleck's  head,  some 
dozen  yards  below. 

"  Got  'im  yet ! "  spluttered  the  diver,  blowing  the 
water  from  mouth  and  nose  as  he  still  floundered 
along  in  the  wake  of  the  fish.  But  by  this  time  he 
managed  to  keep  his  head  above  the  surface,  using  his 
free  arm  in  lusty  strokes  to  keep  from  being  drawn 
under  again. 

"  Goin'  down  Red  River,"  he  shouted  back  at  Sam. 
"Git  to  Shreveport  to-night;  pick  up  your  oars  an' 
come  on,  or  you'll  be  left  1  "- 

The  demoralized  boatman  siezed  the  oars  and  began 


HUNTINe*  aTORIES.  61 

a  pursuit.  He  sat  with  his  face  to  the  bow,  however, 
so  as  to  watch  the  swimmer  in  front. 

Aleck  was  now  fast  nearing  shallow  water,  and  an 
instant  later  Sam  saw  the  great  gray  back  of  the  cat 
away  out  on  the  "ripple." 

Suddenly  Aleck  gathered  himself  up  and  stood 
waist-deep  in  the  water.  Rapidly  hauling  in  the  line, 
with  a  hard  pull  on  the  mouth  of  the  tired  fish,  he 
rushed  ahead  shouting  triumphantly. 

And  now  the  big  cat  had  made  a  fatal  mistake. 
The  water  was  too  shallow  for  his  great  body  5  he  was 
tired,  and  the  hard  pulling  of  his  pursuer  held  him  at  a 
stand-still.  He  grew  sulky,  gave  up  the  fight,  and 
rolled  over  and  over. 

An  instant  later  Sam  saw  his  brother  seated  in  tri- 
umph on  the  half-submerged  body  of  the  floundering 
monster. 

"  Got  him  safe  now ! "  cried  Aleck,  as  Sam  brought 
the  boat  alongside.  "He's  a  whopper — as  big  as  a 
good  big  hog ! " 

He  wasn't  quite  as  large  as  that,  but  after  they  had 
flopped  him  over  the  edge  of  the  boat  and  taken  him 
home,  he  was  found  to  weigh  eighty-nine  pounds  and 
four  ounces. 


VII. 

A  DEADLY  ENCOUNTER. 

I  have  often  met  old  hunters  who  have  heard  of 
battles  between  the  grizzly  bear  and  the  immense, 
tawny  panther  of  the  Kocky  Mountains  ;  but  I  have 
only  once  known  a  man  who  had  seen  such  a  combat. 
Sergeant  Roseman  of  the  — th  United  States  Cavalry, 
whom  I  met  in  Wyoming  while  on  a  hunting  expedi- 
tion in  '86,  told  me  of  a  fierce  fight  between  "  Old 
Eph"  and  two  mountain  lions  which  he  had 
"  umpired  " — as  he  put  it — near  Caspar  Mountain  sev- 
eral years  before. 

.  At  that  time  he  was  stationed  at  Fort  Fetterman. 
A  party  of  citizens  had  come  out  from  St.  Paul,  Minn., 
to  hunt  the  big  game,  then  so  plentiful  in  eastern 
Wyoming,  and  the  sergeant,  one  of  the  best  hunters  in 
his  regiment,  was  allowed  to  go  with  them,  taking  a 
small  detachment  of  soldiers  to  look  after  the  camp, 
and  take  care  of  the  game.  The  party  had  been  hunt- 
ing elk  among  the  foot-hills  of  the  Caspar  range,  and 
near  the  great  ragged  mountain  which  is  their  chief 
feature,  when  the  adventure  befell  him. 

rtI  killed  an  elk,"  said  he,  "early  one  morning, 
and  as  I  often  did  in  a  region  where  there  were  grizzly 
or  silver-tip  bears,  I  left  it  where  it  fell,  for  bear  bait. 
There  is  nothing  the  big  bears  of  this  region  are  more 
fond  of  than  a  freshly  killed  elk  or  a  black-tail.  I  had 
already,  at  one  time  and  another,  shot  seven  bears  by 
baiting  in  this  way.  and  watching  by  the  bodies  of  the 
dead  elks. 


HUNTING   STORIES.  63 

4*  Perched  comfortably  in  the  branches  of  an  ever- 
green, or  lying  upon  the  top  of  some  high  rock  within 
a  few  rods  of  your  bait,  it  isn't  such  a  desperate  adven- 
ture, the  killing  of  a  grizzly.  A  good  gun,  using  heavy 
ammunition,  decent  markmanship,  and  a  steady  nerve 
are  all  that  is  required.  If  you  are  fresh  at  the  busi- 
ness though,  you  probably  won't  fret  a  great  deal  if 
the  bear  fails  to  come. 

"  This  time  I  had  killed  an  elk  in  just  such  a  spot 
and  with  just  such  surroundings  as  I  would  have 
selected  could  I  have  had  full  choice.  I  shot  it  in  the 
act  of  drinking  at  a  small  basin  of  water  in  the  bed  of 
the  canon,  which  cut  back  into  the  foot  of  old  Caspar 
Mountain.  The  side  of  the  mountain  on  either  hand 
was  rutted  with  deep  gorges  leading  into  the  canon. 
Quaking  asp  thickets  clustered  around  the  heads  of 
these  ravines,  while  the  bottoms,  wherever  vegetation 
could  take  hold,  were  grown  to  willows,  currant  and 
bullberry  bushes.  It  was  just  the  place  for  bears,  and 
their  sign  was  as  plentiful  as  I  had  ever  seen  it  any- 
where. 

"  The  spot  was  only  a  mile  from  our  camp,  and  when 
I  came  in  from  my  hunt — for  we  hunted  singly  or  in 
twos  and  threes  as  the  notion  took  us — I  found  three 
of  the  St.  Paul  men  taking  a  late  dinner.  I  told  them 
of  my  success,  and  invited  them  to  go  with  me,  and  lie 
in  wait  for  bears  that  evening.  They  declined,  declar- 
ing that  they  hadn't  lost  any  bears,  and,  therefore, 
didn't  feel  called  upon  to  hunt  for  'em.  I  was  welcome, 
they  said,  to  gather  all  the  stray  grizzlies  in  the  region, 
and  put  my  particular  brand  on  'em. 

"  So  about  three  o'clock  I  went  up  to  my  bait  alone. 
I  found  it  undisturbed,  and  perched  myself  in  the 


64  HUNTING  STORIES. 

crevice  of  a  ledge  of  rock,  some  thirty  yards  distant, 
which  position  I  reached  by  making  a  ladder  of  dry 
poles  that  lay  among  some  drift  of  a  recent '  washout.* 
My  hiding-place  was  perfectly  safe  from  the  attack  of 
a  bear,  should  I  be  lucky  enough  to  lure  one  within 
shot,  as  it  was  fully  fifteen  feet  from  the  base  of  the 
ledge,  at  a  perpendicular  height. 

"  I  found  the  crack,  in  which  I  could  stretch  myself 
at  full  length,  such  a  comfortable  place  that  I  con- 
cluded to  watch  all  night,  provided  no  bear  came  to  my 
bait  sooner.  I  had  not  long  to  wait,  however,  before  I 
was  treated  to  the  most  thoroughand  thrilling  surprise 
of  all  my  hunting  experience. 

"  I  had  lain,  perhaps,  an  hour,  and  the  sun  had  just 
sunk  behind  the  mountains  back  of  me,  so  that  their 
shadows  had  crawled  over  the  tops  of  the  lower  ones 
in  front,  when  I  heard  the  sound  of  soft  foot-falls  just 
on  the  other  side  of  a  fringe  of  bullberry  bushes,  which 
skirted  the  stream  above  the  spring  where  my  elk  lay. 
I  pricked  my  ears  and  looked  sharply  for  game,  which 
from  the  muffled  sound  I  took  to  be  two  or  three  bears 
running  down  the  canon. 

"  I  had  no  time  to  speculate  on  the  nature  of  the 
animals  before  there  bounded  in  sight  two  big  tawny 
mountain-lions!  They  were  racing  down  the  canon, 
jumping  sidewise  and  running  against  each  other  in  a 
way  that  was,  no  doubt,  intended  to  be  playful,  and  I 
was  just  about  to  stop  one  of  them  with  a  shot  from 
my  rifle,  when  in  the  same  breath  each  of  them  caught 
a  scent  of  the  elk's  carcass,  and  came  to  a  sudden  halt. 

"  They  stood  for  a  moment  with  heads  erect,  ears 
pricked  forward,  and  tails  switching  eagerly,  their  yel-. 
low  eyes  gleaming  and  scintillating,  the  white  spots  on 


HUNTING   STORIES  65 

their  breasts  offering  a  splendid  target  if  I  had  cared 
\o  shoot  at  once.  They  were  fine,  sleek  animals  with 
glossy  coats,  far  more  imposing  in  looks,  and  much 
larger  than  the  panther  of  the  East  and  South,  and  I 
was  anxious  to  bag  both  of  them,  which  I  thought  I 
might  make  sure  of  doingif  they  attacked  my  bait,  as 
I  might  easily  bore  them  both  with  a  single  shot  from 
my  "Winchester  express  if  they  got  in  range. 

"  They  hesitated  but  an  instant,  a  few  seconds  rather, 
then  leaped  the  channel  of  the  stream  with  cat-like 
jumps  and  approached  the  elk  which  they  cautiously 
sniffed  with  pointed  noses.  I  rejoiced  at  the  prospect 
of  securing  two  such  magnificent  cats. 

"  One  of  them,  the  larger  and  a  male,  came  up  to  the 
bait  first,  snuffed  it  over,  licked  the  fresh  blood  about 
the  neck,then  with  a  sudden  proprietary  air  he  mounted 
the  carcass  with  his  forefeet,  gave  a  satisfied  purr,  that 
sounded  like  the  muffled  drumming  of  a  partridge's 
wings,  and  switched  his  tail  about  with  a  snapping 
*  motion  at  the  end,  just  as  a  cat  with  a  fresh-caught 
mouse  in  her  paws  might  have  done. 

"The  female  took  her  turn  at  licking  the  bloody 
neck,  and  snarled  her  cat-pleasure  at  the  prospect  of  a 
gratuitous  feast.  They  did  not  seem  to  be  in  the  least 
hungry,  for  they  made  no  move  toward  devouring,  but 
after  snuffing  and  examining  the  game  for  a  bit,  they 
sat  about  scratching  leaves  and  dirt  over  it,  with  the 
evident  intention  of  preserving  or  hiding  it  for  future 
use. 

"Thinking  my  time  had  now  come,  I  shifted  my 
position  carefully,  and  brought  my  gun  to  bear  upon 
them,  waiting  only  for  an  opportunity  to  make  one 
bullet  to  kill  or  cripple  them  both,  as  I  feared  that  the 


66  HUNTING   STOEIES. 

unhurt  one  would  get  out  of  sight  before  I  could  get  a 
fair  shot  at  it. 

"  Suddenly,  the  big  one  threw  himself  upon  the  elk 
with  a  harsh  snarl,  his  hair  raising  on  end,  his  ears  laid 
back,  and  his  tail  switching  viciously  as  he  lay  at  full 
length,  his  head  turned  away  from  me,  evidently 
watching  some  object  down  the  canon.  The  female, 
too,  advanced  nearly  beside  him,  her  hair  sticking  out 
like  bristles,  and  her  angry  snarling  was  deeper  and 
more  threatening  than  his. 

"  At  first  I  could  see  nothing  of  the  intruder  against 
which  this  fierce  threatening  was  launched,  but  I  more 
than  suspected  its  nature,  and  my  excitement  rose. 
Either  another  lion  or  a  bear  was  approaching,  I  felt 
certain,  and  so  it  proved  ;  it  was  a  grizzly,  and  one  of 
the  largest  I  had  ever  seen  ! 

"  He  reared  himself  suddenly  out  of  the  bed  of  the 
little  stream,  only  a  few  yards  from  the  lions  and  the 
elk.  He  had  been  traveling  up  the  bed  of  the  creek, 
— as  bears  often  do  in  a  shallow  stream, — and  attracted 
by  the  snarls  of  the  lions  who  had  heard  him  coming 
had  emerged  to  see  what  the  fuss  was  about. 

"To  my  delight  he  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance, 
and  without  a  minute's  hesitation  he  shambled  toward 
the  belligerent  cats,  mingling  his  hoarse  growls  with 
their  savage  snarlings. 

"  I  had  heard  that  the  mountain  lion  would  not  run 
from  a  grizzly,  but  did  not  believe  it,  and  despite  the 
fearful  threatening  of  the  two  before  me,  I  expected  to 
see  them  give  way  as  the  monstrous  bear  came  up. 
Imagine  my  astonishment  when,  as  the  grizzly  charged 
within  leaping  distance,  both  of  the  panthers  sprang 
upon  him  instantlv. 


HUNTING  STORIES,  67 

**I  could  not  properly  describe  the  scene  which 
followed ;  both  brutes  pounced  upon  the  grizzly  tooth 
and  nail,  and  closed  with  him  in  such  a  fury  of  savage 
outcries  as  made  my  hair  rise,  and  my  whole  body 
prickle  with  intense  excitement. 

"  The  grizzly  reared  as  the  two  animals  struck  him  ; 
as  he  came  up  in  a  sitting  position  upon  his  haunches 
he  shook  the  female  lion  from  bis  shoulder.  But  the 
male  lion  held  him  by  the  throat,  his  tawny  body  lay 
along  the  bear's  belly,  and  his  hind  legs  were  working 
with  lightning-like  speed  and  strength.       * 

"  The  bear  opened  his  mouth  wide,  and  roared  as  he 
turned  his  head  sidewise  and  downwards,  and  strove  to 
catch  his  antagonist's  neck  with  his  teeth.  He  failed 
in  his  attempt,  but  at  the  same  moment  he  caught  the 
lion's  body  just  below  the  shoulders  in  a  clutch  of  his 
terrible  claws,  which  seemed  literally  to  flatten  the 
animal  between  them. 

"The  lion  relaxed  his  hold  of  the  bear's  neck,  threw 
back  his  head,  and  sought  to  writhe  loose  from  the 
bear.  It  would  have  gone  hard  with  him,  had  not  the 
female  lion  by  a  desperate  spring  fastened  herself  so 
strongly  upon  the  back  of  the  bear's  neck  that  he  was 
forced  to  drop  the  male  and  turn  to  herv 

"  Over  and  over  they  rolled  about  the  elk  carcass. 
They  clawed,  bit  and  tore  at  each  other  with  deep, 
muffled  snarls  and  growls.  Sometimes  the  bear  was  on 
top  of  a  lion,  and  again  both  lions  were  on  top  of  him. 

"  The  grizzly  would  gather  one  of  them  suddenly  in 
his  huge  forearms,  bear  it  down  upon  the  ground  in 
the  effort  to  crush  and  bite  the  life  out  of  it,  then  feel- 
ing th#  teeth  of  the  other  which  would  invariably  seize 


68  HUNTING  STORIES. 

upon  the  back  of  his  neck,  the  infuriated  monster  would 
loose  his  hold,  and  whirl  upon  that  one. 

"  Soon,  in  one  of  these  whirls,  he  caught  the  smaller 
lion,  and  gave  her  such  a  terrible  bite  before  the  male's 
attack— which  was  from,  behind  as  usual — could  induce 
him  to  release  her,  that  she  lost  '  sand '  completely, 
and  slunk  limping  away,  evidently  badly  hurt. 

"  The  male  lion  immediately  took  the  defensive, 
dodged  about  the  grizzly,  and  leaped  -easily  out  of 
reach  of  his  furious  charges.  I  saw  that  Bruin  had 
the  best  of  the  fight  and  was  likely  to  maintain  his 
advantage ;  and  as  I  was  far  more  anxious  to  secure 
the  tremendous  beast  than  I  was  to  get  the  lions,  I 
opened  fire  upon  him  with  my  Winchester,  and  gave 
him  a  ball  behind  the  shoulder  as  he~turned  broadside 
in  one  of  his  rushes  at  the  lion.  Luckily  the  first  shot 
killed  him. 

"  The  lion,  more  frightened  at  the  report  of  the  gun 
than  he  had  been  at  the  bear,  bounded  across  the 
creek,  and  though  I  fired  two  shots  at  him  before  he 
got  out  of  sight  I  missed  him.  The  male  got  off  scot- 
free,  as  I  do  not  think  the  bear  had  given  him  more 
than  a  few  scratches,  but  I  followed  the  female,  and 
overtook  her  in  a  crippled  condition  some  half  a  mile 
up  the  canon  :  a  single  bullet  killed  her." 


VIII. 

IN  THE  CACHE  CREEK  WOODS. 

We  had  been  watching  an  opportunity  to  talk  with 
.father  for  a  week,  but,  to  tell  the  truth,  he  had  not  been 
in  a  very  good,  humor.  The  crops  were  light,  pork 
bade  fair  to  be  low  too,  and  we  knew  he  had  interest- 
money  to  make  out  on  the  first  day  of  December,  a 
fact  that  troubled  him  a  good  deal,  for  it  was  October 
already.  However,  he  looked  rather  more  cheerful 
this  morning ;  so  my  brother,  Ad,  mustered  up  courage, 
and  said : 

"  If  you  will  let  Lew  and  me  go  after  '  cons  '  this 
fall,  we  will  engage  to  pay  you  fifteen  dollars  a  month 
for  our  time,  and  board  ourselves." 

Father  looked  at  him  a  moment,  and  then  sharply 
at  me.    He  evidently  did  not  favor  it. 

"  Who  will  do  the  fall's  work? "  he  exclaimed. 
"  Who  will  look  to  the  hogs? " 

Ad.  did  not  like  to  say :  "It  will  be  necessary  for  you 
to  do  that  yourself,"  so  he  simply  said  :  "  It  seems  to 
me  that  ninety  dollars  would  help  a  good  deal  on  the 
bills  that  are  coming  due." 

Father  rose  and  went  to  the  door ;  then,  as  mother 
had  breakfast  about  ready,  he  sat  down  at  the  table. 
u  Well,  you  may  as  well  eat  your  breakfast,  boys,"  he 
said. 

We  ate  in  silence.  Just  as  we  were  getting  up  from 
the  table,  father  said  : "  If  you  feel  quite  sure  that  you 
can  save  thirty  dollars  a  month,  as  I  need  the  money, 
I  think  I  will  try  to  spare  you." 


70  HUNTING    STORIES.    ' 

That  was  enough.    Weren't  we  glad,  though ! 

Perhaps  the  reader  is  ^wondering  what  we  meant  by- 
going  "  after  'cons.' "  Did  you  ever  eat  a  pecan  nut  ? 
Here  in  northern  Texas,  and  in  the  Indian  Territory, 
along  the  upper  course  of  Red  River,  boys  earn  pocket 
money  by  gathering  and  selling  pecans.  It  is  quite 
a  business,  in  fact.  "We  make  camping-out  trips  of  a 
month  or  six  weeks'  duration.  The  nuts  are  ripe  by 
the  first  of  October,  and  the  gathering  season  lasts  till 
the  first  of  the  following  January.  The  pecan  nut  tree 
is  a  variety  of  hickory,  as  many  know. 

At  this  season  of  the  year  our  climate  is  almost 
perfect.  There  is  an  occasional  "  norther/'  of  course  ; 
but  a  day  or  two  of  cold  north  wind  may  well  be 
served  up  as  a  spice  for  the  long  dessert  of  genial  sun- 
shine with  which  the  winter  solstice  favors  us. 

Our  summers,  however,  cannot  be  so  highly  recom- 
mended ;  for  though  the  thermometer  stands  at  968  in 
the  shade  nearly  all  day,  one-half  of  the  inhabitants 
are  commonly  shivering  every  other  day  with  the 
cold.  Chills  and  fever !  These  are  the  blots  on  our 
summer  climate. 

Pecan  trees  are  very  numerous  on  the  banks  of  all 
the  wooded  streams  of  Texas  and  the  Indian  Territory, 
but  it  is  among  the  groves  along  Red  River  that  the 
nuts  are  most  abundant.  There,  too,  the  "camp  of 
the  picker  "  will  be  most  often  seen. 

Let  me  say  here  that  gathering  pecans,  as  a  busi- 
ness, involves  work  /  and  the  industrious  picker  goes 
from  his  camp  in  the  morning  provided  with  a  "  strap 
sack"  and  along,  slender  pole.  The  sack,  made  of 
stiff  ducking,  with  leather-covered  bottom,  will  hold  a 
peck  or  more  of  nuts,  and  is  carried  by  a  broad  strap 


HUNTING   STORIES.  71 

thrown  over  the  shoulder.  The  pole  is  a  light,  strong 
sapling,  as  long  as  the  picker  can  conveniently  carry 
or  handle.  This  is  a  very  necessary  part  of  his  outfit. 
Without  it  he  could  accomplish  little,  for  the  pecan 
tree  is  tall  and  slender,  with  slim  branches  that  offer 
little  aid  to  climbers ;  while  the  nuts  themselves  are 
incased  in  hard,  oblong  shucks,  and  yield  very  slowly 
to  the  forces  of  nature,  but  very  quickly  to  the  smart 
raps  of  the  gatherer's  pole. 

An  active  picker  will  gather  from  two  to  three 
bushels  a  day.  When  gathered,  the  nuts  are  worth, 
on  an  average,  two  dollars  and  a  quarter  per  bushel  at 
the  nearest  "  store/'  or  frontier  town. 

Thus  the  sons  of  farmers  living  along  Red  River 
frequently  make  good  wages  during  the  pecan  months, 
and  get  some  sport  into  the  bargain.  Not  that  there 
is  much  sport  in  the  picking  of  the  nuts,  but  the  deep 
woods  into  which  the  picker  must  penetrate  are  still 
well  stocked  with  game.  Deer,  turkeys,  wild  cats  and 
panthers  are  to  be  met  in  these  wild  places.  The  wild 
turkeys  are  especially  abundant,  and  the  nut-gath- 
erers carry  guns,  of  course. 

Another  kind  of  game  is  met  in  some  places,  too  fre- 
quently met,  let  me  say,  and  this  is  the  wild  hog.  These 
vicious  brutes,  like  those  in  the  swamps  of  Mississippi, 
the  descendants  of  the  domestic  animals — are  indeed  a 
"  thorn  in  the  flesh  "  to  the  pecan-picker.  Not  only 
do  they  devour  bushels  of  the  windfalls,  but  they  often 
make  a  raid,  in  the  absence  of  the  picker,  into  his  camp 
and  plunder  his  larder. 

Nor  is  this  all.  .  The  old  boars  are  fierce  and  vicious, 
and  many  of  them  seem  determined  to  drive  all  tres- 
passers from  the  woods  through  which  they  roam.  The 


72  HUNTING-   STORIES. 

pecan*picker  is  very  willing  to  avoid  encounters  with, 
them,  and  never  shoots  one  unless  forced  to  do  so  to 
escape  injury,  for  many  of  them  bear  the  brand  of  an 
owner. 

But  occasionally  a  pitched  battle  takes  place  between 
some  savage  old  "tusker"  and  an  exasperated  picker, 
which  usually  ends  in  the  death  of  the  brute.  It  is  a 
dangerous  encounter,  however,  even  when  well  armed, 
for  the  brush  and  sweet-briers  are  usually  more  than 
waist-high,  and  a  boar's  motions  are  very  rapid  and 
uncertain. 

This  introduction  was  necessary  before  beginning  my 
story,  in  order  that  I  may  be  understood. 

Gur  home  is  on  the  south  side  of  Red  River ;  and 
having  made  up  an  outfit,  something  as  above  indicated, 
and  procured  a  six  weeks'  stock  of  bacon,  lard  and  corn 
meal,  we  set  off  on  the  morning  of  the  4th  of  October 
with  old  "  Buck" — one  of  our  horses- — harnessed  into  a 
farm  wagon,  containing  tent,  blankets,  etc. 

Fording  the  river,  we  went  ten  or  fifteen  miles  up 
Cache  creek,  to  a  tract  of  timber  which  we  had  pre- 
viously "prospected."  It  was  a  good  place  for  nuts, 
and  one  not  likely  to  be  visited  by  other  pickers. 

Our  method  of  disposing  of  the  nuts,  which  other- 
wise would  accumulate  on  our  hands,  or  cause  much 
waste  of  time  in  hauling  across  the  river,  was  a  very 
convenient  one.  We  were  within  half  a  day's  drive 
of  one  of  the  numerous  freight  roads  into  the  Territory ; 
and  the  "freighters,"  returning  without  load,  from  a 
trip  to  one  of  the  northern  posts  or  agencies,  willingly 
gave  us  two  dollars  per  bushel  for  all  the  nuts  we  chose 
to  bring  them  ;  for  they  were  sure  to  sell  them  at  an 
advance  of  from  twenty -five- to  fifty  cents  per  bushel. 


HUNTING   STORIES.  73 

There  is  no  trouble  in  catching  a  "freighter"  at 
the  creek  crossings,  on  almost  any  morning  or  evening. 

Our  camping-place  was  near  a  little  tributary  of  the 
Cache,  called  the  Deep  Red,  in  the  midst  of  the  pecan 
and  hackberry  woods.  For  the  first  two  weeks,  we  did 
not  see  a  man  except  the  passing  freighters.  By  the 
afternoon  of  the  fourteenth  day,  we  had  gathered  over 
fifty  bushels  of  nuts,  for  which  we  had  received  from 
the  freighters  over  one  hundred  dollars;  more  than 
enough  for  our  "  freedom  money  "  till  January.  There 
seemed  no  limit  to  the  quantity  of  pecans  on  the  trees. 
Turkeys  were  plenty,  and,  as  yet,  we  had  not  heard  a 
hog  nor  seen  a  trace  of  one. 

That  afternoon  Ad  took  old  Buck  and  the  wagon,  to 
go  up  the  creek  a  few  miles  after  a  load  of  "  windfall  " 
nuts,  which  we  had  scraped  together  on  the  ground 
under  the  trees,  the  afternoon  before,  leaving  me  to 
pick,  as  usual,  nearer  the  camp.  We  had  seen  deer 
signs  on  the  creek,  and  he  took  our  breech-loading 
carbine  (a  "Winchester)  along  with  him.  There  remained 
to  me  only  the  light  shot-gun. 

"  Bring  back  a  deer,"  I  called  to  him,  as  he  drove 
out  through  the  timber ;  "  and  I  will  have  a  turkey  all 
ready  when  you  get  here." 

"  I'll  do  it,"  he  said.  "  Have  your  turkey  ready,  for  I 
shall  be  hungry." 

For  three  or  four  hours  I  was  busy,  rapping  limbs 
with  my  pole  and  gathering  the  nuts  that  fell ;  and  in 
fact  came  near  forgetting  the  turkey  altogether,  in  the 
castles  I  was  building  for  expending  the  three  hundred 
dollars  which  I  hoped  to  clear  that  fall,  and  by  which 
I  could  make  a  grand  tour  to  New  York  and  Boston. 
The  late  afternoon  sun-rays  falling  in  between  the 


f4  HUNTING   STOEIES. 

hickory  trunks  at  last  reminded  me  of  my  duties  as 
cook,  and  hastily  taking  my  fourth  sack-load  of  nuts  to 
camp,  I  loaded  the  shot-gun  and  started  for  my  turkey. 

From  previous  experience,  I  knew  that  the  creek- 
bank  was  the  place  to  look  for  them,  at  this  time  of 
day;  and,  indeed,  I  had  scarcely  reached  it  when  a 
plaintive  "  Yeap,  yeap,  yeap,  yop,  yop,  yop !  "  came  to 
my  ear,  from  a  few  rods  below.  The  bird  had  evidently 
strayed  away  from  its  mates,  and  was  complaining 
loudly  of  its  separation.  I  had  to  make  my  way  very 
cautiously  through  a  thick  growth  of  young  hackberries, 
but  at  length  reached  the  desired  position,  and  peering 
through  the  bushes  from  the  top  of  the  bank,  was 
rewarded  by  the  sight  of  a  fine  young  gobbler  trotting 
back  and  forth  upon  a  sand-bar,  on  the  opposite  side  of 
the  creek.  The  turkey  seemed  bewildered  and  unable 
to  decide  which  direction  to  take ;  but  in  a  moment  I 
raised  my  gun  and  the  stricken  turkey  lay  dead  on  the 
sand. 

With  the  report  of  the  gun,  however,  quite  another 
sort  of  game  turned  up.  Close  at  hand,  in  the  thicket, 
I  heard  a  surprised  Whoogh !  whoogh  !  then  a  crash  in 
the  brush  followed  by  the  angry  chop !  chop !  chop !  of 
a  boar's  jaws. 

Knowing  how  rapid  these  ugly  brutes  sometimes 
are  in  their  rushes,  I  lost  no  time  in  jumping  down  to 
the  partly  dry  bed  of  the  creek,  and  wading  quickly 
through  the  water,  caught  up  my  turkey,  with  the 
intention  of  leaving  such  a  dangerous  neighborhood, 
without  loss  of  time.  But  the  thicket  was  very  dense 
on  the  other  bank,  and  I  was  obliged  to  follow  up  the 
'  the  creek,  for  a  few  rods,  to  get  out  of  it.  I 
went  or  tip-toe,  and  it  seemed  to  me  I  hardly  stirred 


HUNTING   STORIES.  75 

a  pebble,  yet  I  had  not  gone  more  than  twenty  yards, 
when  with  another  gruff  whoogh,  and  a  clash  of  his 
long  tusks,  a  great,  gaunt,  spotted  boar  plunged  out 
from  amongst  the  sweet-briers,  and  throwing  the  froth 
from  his  mouth  high  into  the  air  as  he  "  clacked,"  came 
at  me  like  a  shot. 

My  gun  was  empty.  I  knew  that  I  stood  no  chance 
with  such  a  creature  by  clubbing  the  breech  To  run 
was  all  that  I  could  do,  and  run  I  did,  down  the  bed  of 
the  creek,  at  my  very  best  pace. 

But  let  no  one  think  that  he  can  outrun  a  wild  boar; 
I  had  not  taken  ten  jumps,  when  a  loud  whoogh  at 
my  very  heels  told  me  that  the  brute  was  upon  me  and 
would  the  next  moment  rip  me  up. 

I  did  what  'most  any  one,  overtaken,  will  do — leaped 
aside  as  far  and  as  lithely  as  I  could. 

The  boar  went  by  me  with  a  rush,  plowing  through 
the  sand  and  making  the  pebbles  fly,  as  if  a  hundred- 
T)ound  shot  had  struck  beside  me  ! 

I  did  not  wait  to  even  look  at  him,  but  tacked  about, 
as  if  on  a  pivot,  and  ran  up  stream,  with  all  my  might 
and  main  !  But  the  boar  pursued  almost  as  quickly 
as  I,  and  I  had  not  run  a  hundred  feet  before  he  was 
at  my  heels  again ! 

Again  I  leaped  for  life,  to  one  side ;  and  again  the 
boar  plowed  by!  The  next  instant  I  was  running 
for  dear  life's  sake  down  stream  again !  Four  times  I 
ran  back  and  forth  in  this  manner,  and  every  time  the 
boar  came  so  close  that  he  threw  the  froth  from  his 
mouth  all  over  my  back!  It  seemed  as  if  he  came 
closer  to  me  each  time.  I  felt  my  strength,  or  at  least 
my  breath,  failing  me.  The  thought  that  I  must  be 
ripped  and  killed  by  that  savage  animal  was  an  awful 


76 


HUNTING   STORIES. 


one;  and  catch  me  I  knew  he  would  in  less  than 
another  minute.    But  just  as  I  tacked  the  fourth  time? 


my  eye  fell  on  a  hackberry  sapling  that  leaned  out 
from  the  thicket  on  the  bank,  over  the  creek  bed.  The 
trunk  was,  perhaps,  four  feet  up  from  my  head.  As  I 
ran  under  it,  I  summoned  all  my  energy,  jumped  and 


UNTING   STOBIES.  ,     77 

caught  it  with  my  hands.  It  bent  under  the  weight, 
but  I  drew  my  legs  up,  and  clapped  my  feet  round  it, 
just  in  time  to  escape  a  spiteful  upward  slash  of  the 
boar's  tushes !  He  just  missed  my  body.  Another  foot 
and  he  would  have  struck  me ! 

I  wiggled  round  to  the  top  side  of  the  sapling,  into  a 
more  secure  position,  and  was  now  perhaps  six  feet 
above  the  boar's  head. 

There  I  lay  and  panted ;  while  beneath,  the  old 
tusker  stood  and  looked  up  at  me,  whetting  his  tusks, 
his  wicked  little  red  eyes  fairly  sparkling  with  fury,  and 
the  long  bristles  standing  up  all  along  his  fore  should- 
ers and  back. 

Finding  that  he  could  not  reach  me,  the  boar  began 
rooting  and  tearing  out  the  bank  at  the  roots  of  the 
sapling.  Bip,  rip  went  his  old  tusks  through  the  turf 
and  fibres.  I  felt  the  sapling  jar,  and  soon  began  to 
fear  that  he  might  tear  enough  of  the  roots  and  the 
earth  away  so  that  it  would  fall  over  into  the  creek 
bed. 

Every  few  moments  the  malignant  brute  would  stop 
and  eye  me  for  an  instant,  then  fall  to  ripping  at  the 
roots  again.  I  really  think  that  the  creature  had  some 
plan  of  getting  me  down. 

Already  it  was  past  sunset,  and  twilight  would  soon 
come  on.  Ad  ought  to  be  back  by  this  time,  I  thought, 
and  in  hopes  of  his  assistance,  I  now  began  to  shout  for 
-help.  For  a  time  the  forest  echoes  were  my  only 
responses,  but  I  kept  shouting  at  intervals  of  half  a 
minute,  or  less ;  and  at  length  got  an  answering  hullo/ 
from  away  up  the  creek. 

"Help ! "  I  shouted.    "  Help,  help ! " 

Ad  was  at  this  time  about  half  a  mile  from  camp, 


78  HUNTING   STOKIES. 

coming  home  with  a  wagon-load  of  pecans.  "When  he 
heard  me  call  "help !"  he  unhitched  old  "Buck"  from 
the  wagon,  jumped  on  his  back  and  came  down  at  a 
gallop.  In  a  minute  or  two,  I  heard  him  dashing  in 
through  the  sweet-briers  at  a  great  pace. 

"  Hold  on ! "  I  shouted.  "  Get  your  gun  ready.  I 
am  treed  by  a  savage  old  boar.  You  must  look  out 
for  him.     He's  full  of  fight." 

"  I'll  settle  him ! "  cried  Ad  cheerily. 

But  the  boar  no  sooner  heard  his  voice  than  he  gave 
one  of  his  whooghs  !  rushed  up  the  bank  and  out  through 
the  brush,  toward  the  sound. 

I  could  just  see  Ad  over  the  briers. 

"  Look  sharp ! "  I  called  out.  "  He's  coming  for  you ! " 

"  Let  him  come  !  "  Ad  exclaimed  ;  I  heard  the  carbine 
hammer  click;  then  crack  went  a  shot !  Old  "Buck's" 
head  reared  up  in  sight,  at  the  same  instant.  The  boar 
had  charged  blindly  at  the  horse.  In  the  fracas,  Ad 
was  thrown  violently  into  the  briers. 

Fearing  the  worst,  I  jumped  down  from  the  sapling, 
and  ran  through  the  brush  on  the  trail  of  the  boar. 
But  before  I  got  through,  another  shot  cracked,  and  Ad 
cried  out :  "  All  right !  I've  settled  him  this  time  I " 

When  I  got  through  the  thicket,  he  was  standing  in 
triumph,  over  the  still  heaving  body  of  the  boar. 

"  Missed  him  the  first  time,"  said  he,  "  then  the  horse 
jumped  before  I  could  catch  the  reins  an'  threw  me.  Old 
'  Buck'  ran  off  in  no  time ;  and  then  the  boar  turned  on 
me,  as  I  lay  sprawled  out  here.  I  continued  to  work 
the  lever  and  shove  the  muzzle  down,  as  he  came 
towards  me.  See,  the  bullet  went  in  at  his  mouth,  an5 
came  out  at  the  back  of  his  head." 

I  got  the  turkey  and  the  shot-gun ;  and  we  went  back 


HUNTING   STOKIES.  79 

to  camp— where  the  first  living  objects  we  saw  were 
fifteen  or  twenty  sows — the  old  tusker's  family,  proba- 
bly, champing  up  our  supplies,  and  ripping  our  tent 
and  blankets  to  pieces.  In  fact,  they  had  pretty  nearly 
ruined  our  domestic  arrangements,  and  it  was  four  or 
five  days  before  we  got  fresh  provisions,  and  were  in 
trim  to  resume  pecan-picking. 

Yet,  despite  our  misadventure,  we  made  a  very  hand- 
some sum  of  money— for  boys — that  year. 


IX. 

PENNED  IN  WITH  A  GRIZZLY. 

Numerous  accounts  of  adventures  with  Old  Ephraim, 
as  the  grizzly  is  called  in  his  native  mountains,  have 
come  to  me  through  an  extensive  frontier  acquaintance. 
Usually  these  accounts  bear  a  strong  resemblance  to 
each  other  in  the  details  of  incident. 

A  bear  is  seen ;  shots  are  fired,  and  sometimes  the 
animal  is  killed  by  a  lucky  first  shot ;  but  generally  — 
either  owing  to  its  almost  bullet-proof  toughness,  or 
the  hunters  excitement  —  Bruin  is  not  hit,  or  is  only 
wounded.  If  wounded,  the  grizzly  invariably  attacks 
his  assailant,  and  the  hunter  must  trust  to  his  legs,  or 
to  his  horse,  if  he  has  one,  or  to  the  effectiveness  of  his 
repeating  rifle  at  quick  sight  and  short  range. 

Old  Ephraim  comes  with  a  tremendous  rush  when 
hit  not  mortally.  Many  hairbreadth  escapes  occur, 
and  stirring  fights  take  place  between  him  and  his 
human  foe.  However,  an  account  both  amusing  and 
stirring  is  told  by  a  mining  engineer  of  Montana,  in 
which  the  grizzly  plays  a  —  for  him  —  rather  novel  role 
of  camp  thief  and  house  burglar. 

"  Ed  "  Crandall,  chief  engineer  for  a  Montana  mining 
company,  tells  the  story,  and  I  will  give  it,  as  nearly  as 
I  can,  as  he  related  it  to  me. 

We  had  been  talking  about  grizzly-hunting. 

"  My  first  sight  of  Old  Ephraim,"  said  he,  "  in  faot, 
my  first  experience  with  him,  was  just  after  I  came  out 
here,  fresh  from  the  Polytechnic  Institute.    It  was  in 

80 


HUNTING   STORMS.  81 

September,  1877.  I  landed  off  the  stage  at  Virginia 
City  on  the  3d  of  August,  and  on  the  5th  I  had  the 
hick  to  meet  an  old  friend  on  the  street.  His  name 
was  Adam  Fuhr,  and  he  was  a  school-mate  at  the  dis- 
trict school  where  I  learned  my  A  B  C  up  in  the  moun- 
tains of  western  Pennsylvania. 

"Adam  was- delighted  to  see  me,  and  he  had  a 
scheme  to  unfold  immediately,  in  which  he  proposed 
I  should  become  a  partner  with  himself  and  another, 
who,  he  said,  were  going  to  prospect  a  quartz  lead  in 
the  mountains  west  of  Bannock  City. 

"  They  had  struck  a  lode  near  the  head  of  Horse  Plain 
creek,  where  there  had  been  a  placer  excitement  some 
years  before. 

"  The  placer  digging  had  played  out  soon,  but  Ormsby, 
Adam's  partner,  who  was  there  while  it  lasted,  had 
become  impressed  by  the  quartz  croppings  he  had  seen 
among  the  rocks  above  the  valley,  and,  though  he  left 
with  the  rest,  he  had  intended  to  go  back  at  some  time 
and  prospect.  He  had  fallen  in  with  Adam,  and  the 
spring  before  I  came  they  had  gone  up,  stayed  nearly 
all  summer,  and  found  a  lead  that  they  thought  worth 
going  into. 

"  As  I  had  come  out  to  obtain  employment  as  a  min- 
ing engineer,  I  of  course  fell  in  with  the  plan,  as,  per- 
haps, offering  something  better  than  wages.  "When  I 
met  them,  Adam  and  Ormsby  were  getting  together 
an  outfit  for  their  work— provisions,  drills,  picks  and 
blasting-powder. 

"  As  Ormsby  was  willing  to  take  me  in,  I  paid  my 
share  of  the  expense  of  outfitting,  and  we  hired  a  fellow 
with  ponies  and  burros  to  take  us  up. 

"  We  got  up  there  about  the  middle  of  August,  and 


82  HUNTING   STOBIBS. 

took  up  our  abode  in  one  of  the  five  log  buildings  of 
what  had  once  been  known,  in  fact  was  still  known,  as 
'Dead  Mule's  Diggin's'  a  name  given  it  by  the  dis- 
gusted miners  when  the  'pay  dirt'  ceased  to  'pan out. ' 

"We  found  ourselves  quartered  very  comfortably. 
The  building  was  a  one-story  log  structure,  about 
eighteen  by  twenty-four,  with  a  board  roof,  two  single 
windows,  high  up,  and  a  heavy  plank  or  puncheon 
door.  It  had  no  floor,  but  there  were  two  stout  sleep- 
ing bunks,  a  rough  table,  a  number  of  stools,  and  a 
good  fire-place.  Somebody,  evidently,  had  lived  there 
who  cared  for  the  conveniences  of  civilization. 

"After  we  had  got  comfortably  settled  and  sent  our 
*  packer'  home  with  his  animals,  we  went  to  work  with 
drill,  pick  and  powder  upon  the  quartz  lead  which 
Ormsby  had  discovered.  I  had  come  prepared  to  assay, 
and,  as  we  advanced  on  the  lead,  I  found  the  out-look 
daily  more  favorable,  but  suddenly,  after  two  or  three 
weeks  of  hard  work,  the  lode  gave  out  entirely.  It  was 
a  *  blind  lead ' ;  one  of  those  fragments  of  a  vein  broken 
off,  and  shoved  to  the  surface  in  some  ancient  upheaval. 

"We  concluded,  as  we  were  prepared  for  a  several 
months'  stay,  to  put  in  the  time  prospecting  and  hunt- 
ing. We  had  a  good  time  ;  for  prospectors,  you  know, 
are  never  discouraged;  they  are  always  expecting  to 
4  strike  it  rich'  soon,  and  I  found  it  took  a  '  tenderfoot ' 
but  a  very  short  time  to  attain  a  solid  state  of  exuberant 
expeotancy. 

"  There  was  an  abundance  of  game  up  there ;  the 
black-tail,  or  'mule-deer,'  were  especially  numerous, 
and  there  were  grizzlies  and  mountain  lions  to  be  met 
occasionally,  besides  smaller  game — grouse,  mountain 
quail  and  rabbit ;  but  we  had  been  there  several  weeks 


HUNTING   ST0KIES.  83 

before  we  saw  ursus  Korribilis,  and  when  we  did  meet 
him,  it  was  at  most  uncomfortably  close  quarters,  and 
in  a  trying  situation. 

"It  was  a  strange  experience-— one,  probably,  that 
never  occurred  to  hunters  before. 

"  "We  came  home  one  night,  toward  the  last  of  Sep- 
tember, from  a  prospecting  trip,  and  found  that  the 
carcass  of  a  black-tail  that  was  hungup  on  the  outside  of 
our  cabin  wall  had  been  pulled  down  and  dragged  away. 
The  boys,  Adam  and  Ormsby/ thought  it  was  the  work 
of  a  mountain  lion,  but  they  were  not  certain,  for  the 
ground  was  so  hard  and  dry  that  the  beast,  whatever 
it  was,  had  left  no  tracks.  Only  the  faint,  slightly 
blood-marked  trail  of  the  carcass  was  to  be  seen. 

"  But  when  we  went  into  the  cabin  they  changed 
their  minds  about  its  being  a  lion,  for  the  brute  had 
been  in  there  and  had  done  plenty  of  mischief. 

"The  door  must  have  come  open  after  we  left,  for 
the  latch,  a  big  wooden  one  on  the  inside,  was  defective ; 
sometimes  it  caught,  and  sometimes  it  didn't,  and  the 
region  was  so  solitary  and  so  seldom  visited  by  strangers 
that  we  had  not  thought  it  worth  while  to  make  the 
fastening  more  secure. 

"  But  a  trespasser  had  been  there  at  last,  though 
not  a  human  one.  The  table,  upon  which  had  stood 
the  most  of  our  cooking  utensils  and  the  remains  of 
our  breakfast,  was  knocked  over.  We  never  cleaned 
the  dishes  from  one  meal  until  we  were  ready  to  get 
the  next.  The  greasy  platters  had  been  licked,  and  all 
the  scraps  eaten.  A  wooden  pail  of  sugar  and  an 
opened  can  of  lard  had  been  devoured. 

"Not  satisfied  with  these  depredations,  the  creature 
had  pulled  the  blankets  off  the  bunks,  torn  some  of 


84  HUNTING  STORIJBS. 

them,  and  scattered  them  all  about  the  room.  A  sack 
of  coffee  also,  in  the  'provision  corner,'  was  ripped 
open,  and  the  contents  were  strewn  about. 

"  Adam  and  Ormsby  at  once  concluded  this  to  be 
the  work  of  a  bear,  and,  as  there  was  no  other  kind 
about,  of  a  grizzly,  although  they  had  never  heard 
of  a  grizzly  entering  a  human  habitation  before.  They 
thought,  too,  that  the  creature  would  return,  and  we 
immediately  made  up  our  minds  to  lie  in  wait  with 
our  rifles— one  at  a  time — until  it  should  come  back, 
when  we  believed,  Jrom  the  cover  of  the  cabin,  it 
could  be  killed  without  danger. 

"  It  would  come  back  about  the  same  hour  the  next 
day,  Ormsby  thought,  and  we  all  agreed  that  the 
creature  must  have  had  enough  to  eat  to  protect  us 
from  its  return  that  night.  Accordingly  we  hung  up 
our  guns — there  were  old  hooks  of  deer's  horns  along 
the  walls— cooked  and  ate  our  suppers,  and'  after  a 
time  crawled  into  our  bunks  and  fell  fast  asleep. 

"  The  bunks  were  both  on  the  same  side  of  the 
room ;  I  slept  on  the  one  next,  to  the  door,  while  Adam 
and  Ormsby  occupied  one  in  a  corner  near  the  fire- 
place. It  was  a  fairly  warm  night,  and,  as  usual,  in 
order  that  we  might  have  a  good  supply  of  out-door 
air,  we  covered  ourselves  well  with  blankets,  and  left 
the  door  slightly  ajar. 

"  Some  time  after  midnight  I  was  awakened  from  a 
disturbed  sleep  by  a  sniffling  and  a  rasping  sound  that 
seemed  to  come  from  the  center  of  the  room.  I  seemed 
to  have  heard  something  before,  a  creaking  and  scratch- 
ing -sound  was  my  impression  of  it,  ands  now  thor- 
oughly aroused,  I  raised  myself  upon  my  elbow  and 
looked. 


HUNTING  STORHf .  85 

"The  door  was  half -open,  a  flood  of  moonlight  was 
pouring  in  from  a  full  moon,  and  the  sight  that  met 
my  eyes  was,  to  say  the  least,  startling. 

"  The  grizzly  was  there,  a  monstrous  great  creature 
standing  on  its  hind  legs  in  front  of  the  table  and  hold- 
ing in  its  forearms  a  six-quart  wooden  pail  freshly  filled 
with  sugar,  and  licking  out  the  contents  with  sniffs  of 
evident  satisfaction. 

"  It  was  that  temptation,  the  bear's  uncontrollable 
"liking  for  sweet,  that  had  brought  it  back  so  soon. 

"  I  was  not  only  startled  at  the  discovery,  t  was 
thoroughly  frightened,  and  before  I  could  collect  my 
senses  or  make  a  move,  I  heard  a  sharp,  frightened 
whisper  from  my  partners'  bunk. 

" '  Great  Scott  ?  Look  there.' 

"  It  was  Adam,  awakened  by  the'  licking  sounds, 
and  the  grizzly,  which  had  stood  with  its  back  to  me 
noticed  either  his  whisper  or  his  movement,  and  sud- 
denly letting  the~"pail  fall,  gave  a  growl,  dropped 
down  upon  all  fours,  and  began  backing  toward  the 
door.  Ormsby  awoke  and  started  up,  but  Adam  seized 
him  and  held  him  down. 

" '  It's  the  bear,'  he  whispered.  '  He's  in  here,  but 
he's  backin'  out.    Keep  still  ? ' 

"Just  then,  however,  the  grizzly,  unable  to  steer  its 
unwieldy  bulk  backward  through  so  small  a  space, 
struck  the  door,  and,  as  a  matter  of  course,  caused  it  to 
shut.    It  swung  noisily  and  latched. 

"  We  had  trapped  a  grizzly,  but  we  were  in  the  trap 
with  him.  The  big  brute  turned  round  as  the  cloor 
brought  him  up  and  sniffed  at  the  planks  with  a  hoarse 
whine  of  anxiety. 

"  Under  the  bunks,  everybody,'  said  Adam ;  'we're 


86  HUNTING   STORIES. 

penned  in  with  him.'  And>  with  an  excited  scramble, 
we  plunged  out  and  under  cover  of  our  beds  like  frogs 
jumping  from  bogs  down  into  the  mud.  I  rolled  over 
the  foot  of  mine  so  as  to  go  under  as  far  away  from 
the  bear  as  possible. 

"  Our  movements  excited  the  bear  and  frightened 
him  evidently,  for  he  now  began  plunging  wildly  about 
and  giving  vent  to  hoarse,  frightened  grunts. 

"  He  knocked  over  the  table  again  and  sent  things 
flying  in  every  direction.  I  crawled  back  snug  against 
the  wall  under  my  bunk  and  lay  there  in  a  condition 
of  fright  that  I  should  have  hard  work  to  describe. 
'  "  We  were  truly  in  a  pretty  predicament,  shut  in 
there  with  that  big  raging  brute,  not  a  weapon  to  hand 
— for  our  guns  were  hung  up  on  the  opposite  wall — and 
the  bunks,  our  only  protection,  liable  to  be  smashed 
down  at  any  moment  by  his  powerful  paws. 

"  The  grizzly,  however,  was  as  much  alarmed  as  we 
were.  He  tore  about  the  room  like  a  mad  bull,  bellow- 
ing and  puffing  as  he  tried  his  strength,  buffeting  the 
door  and  walls  with  blows  that  made  them  shiver. 

"  The  windows,  I  should  have  said  before,  were 
nothing  but  square  holes  in  the  walls,  and  had  been 
closed  by  nailing  boards  over  them.  As  they  were 
high,  and  admitted  no  light,  the  room  was  totally  dark. 

"  We  could  only  judge  of  the  grizzly's  whereabouts 
by  its  movements,  and  these  brought  him  frightfully 
close  at  times.  Once  he  sprang  with  his  full  weight 
on  top  of  my  bunk,  and  I  could  hear  it  creak  and  strain 
beneath  him  as  he  reared  up  and  pawed  desperately 
at  the  logs  above. 

"  It  was  a  fearful  moment  for  me ;  but  at  length,  old 
Ursus  lunged  off  to  the  floor  again,  and  then  a  lucky 


HUNTING   STOKIES.  87 

thing  happened.  The  bear  must  have  caught  a  gleam 
of  out-door  light  between  the  boards  nailed  across  the 
opposite  window,  as  he  turned  on  the  bunk,  for  he 
charged  straight  across  there  and  reared  up  against 
the  wall,  and  the  next  instant  we  heard  a  ripping  sound 
of  breaking  nails  and  the  clatter  of  the  boards  as  they 
fell  to  the  ground  inside. 

"  *  He's  opened  a  window ! '"  I  shouted,  with  the 
recklessness  of  great  relief. 

"  He  was  certainly  trying,  and  we  could  hear  him 
puffing  and  tugging  as  he  struggled  to  pull  his  huge 
body  up  into  the  opening. 

"  'Ed ! '  called  Adam,  *  if  you  dare  get  out  and  open 
the  door  we  can  get  rid  of  him  now.'  It  required  a 
good  deal  of  determination  to  make  the  attempt,  but 
I  was  close  to  the  door  and  I  crawled  out,  flung  it 
open,  and  scrambled  back  to  cover,  in  the  briefest  pos- 
sible space  of  time.  That  let  in  the  light  again,  and 
we  could  see  Bruin  with  his  forepaws  and  head  out  of 
the  window  trying  to  strain  his  big  body  after  them. 

"  Then  Adam  did  a  daring  thing.  He  got  out  from 
under  his  bunk,  sprang  across  to  the  wall,  caught  down 
his  40-90  Sharp,  that  hung  there,  loaded  as  usual,  for 
emergency,  and,  stepping  close  to  the  struggling  brute, 
shoved  the  muzzle  almost  against  its  side,  fired,  and 
leaped  back  to  shelter  again. 

"I  think  he  wasn't  out  from  under  his  bunk  more 
than  fifteen  seconds. 

"The  shot  too  was  a  well-calculated  one.  The 
grizzly  answered  the  roar  of  the  gun  with  a  fierce 
grunt,  struggled  and  scratched  for  a  moment  to  get 
through  the  window-hole,  and  then  fell  back  with  a 


88  HUNTING  STORIES. 

great  flop  and  lay  on  its  back  pawing  the  air  and 
gasping  for  breath. 

"We  peered  out  from  under  the  sheltering  bunks 
fearfully,  watching  the  great,  heaving  body  until  at 
last  it  rolled  over  on  its  side  and  lay  limp  and  motion- 
less. 

"  Then  we  got  out  and  lighted  a  lantern  and  exam- 
ined it.  It  was  a  magnificent  brute,  a  male,  and 
weighed  nearly  eight  hundred  pounds. 

"  *  Ad,'  said  Ormsby,  after  looking  the  great  beast 
over,  and  seeing  from  the  position  of  the  wound  that 
the  ounce  and  a  quarter  ball  must  have  gone  through 
its  heart,  '  Ad,  that  was  the  coolest,  grittiest  thing  I 
ever  saw  done.' 

"  I  had  always  known  that  Adam  was  plucky,  and 
his  action  that  night  completely  won  my  admiration. 
I  joined  Ormsby  in  hearty  praise  of  it. 

"Altogether  it  was  a  strange  encounter,  both  fear- 
ful and  funny — funny  after  it  was  over — and  I  think  it 
was  only  explainable  from  the  fact  that  those  buildings 
had  stood  there  within  the  grizzly's  haunts  solitary  and 
unoccupied  so  long  that  the  animal  had  lost  all  fear  of 
them.  As  the  one  we  lived  in  was  the  only  one  with  a 
door  left  hanging,  it  is  quite  probable  that  this  bear, 
and  perhaps  others,  had  been  inside  them  all  before. 


k 


X. 

CAUGHT. 

One  summer  evening,  several  years  since,  the  writer, 
with  a  party  of  young  men  who  were  traveling  by 
wagon  from  Cheyenne  to  Fort  Laramie  in  Wyoming, 
camped  near  the  "trail"  on  the  bank  of  a  pretty  and 
swift  little  stream  called  the  Chugwater.  Some  hun- 
dred yards  away  and  opposite  their  camp  were  "  Chug- 
water Ranch  "  buildings. 

These  buildings  were  neat-looking  adobe  houses — 
there  were  two  of  them—surrounded  by  a  high,  strong 
picket-fence.  Outside  the  adobe  enclosure  were  several 
sheds  and  corrals  ranged  along  the  slope  of  a  hill.  In 
one  of  the  latter  were  several  calves  trotting  about  and 
bleating  anxiously— the  only  signs  of  life  about  the 
houses. 

After  we  had  picketed  our  animals,  and  while  we 
were  cooking  our  supper,  it  was  suggested  that  one  of 
us  should  cross  over  and  see  if  he  could  buy  a  bucket 
of  milk  at  the  ranch.  It  seemed  probable  that  there 
must  be  a  woman  there. 

The  result  of  this  suggestion  was  that  I  was  asked 
to  go  over  and  make  the  trial.  Taking  a  tin  pail,  I 
jumped  across  the  brook,  walked  up  to  the  gate  and 
rattled  it.  There  was  no  response.  I  undid  the  fasten- 
ing— a  hook  and  chain— and  rapped  at  the  front  door 
of  the  first  adobe.  Again  there  was  no  response. 
Thinking  there  might  be  some  one  in  the  next  building, 
I  walked  around  and  tapped  on  its  door  also. 

While  I  was  waiting,  I  was  startled  by  the  appear- 


90  HUNTING  STOEIE8. 

ance  of  a  big  black-antlered  elk  that  came  with  a  stately 
strut  around  the  corner  of  the  adobe,  and  stopping 
within  a  pace  or  two,  stared  at  me  with  its  great  brown 
eyes. 

He  was  a  magnificent  animal.  At  first  I  felt  some- 
what alarmed,  lest  this  apparent  guardian  oi'  the 
premises  might  conclude  to  toss  me  over  the  picket- 
fence  on  the  points  of  his  big  horns.  But  the  mild 
expression  of  his  great  eyes  reassured  me,  and  after 
looking  at  me  a  few  seconds,  he  stepped  forward  and 
laid  his  velvety  nose  against  my  shoulder. 

As  I  stood  for  some  minutes  stroking  the  big  elk's 
tawny  red  neck,  I  heard  a  long-drawn  "  How  0-6-0-6 
up  ! "  and  looking  out  through  the  space  between  the 
pickets,  saw  several  cow-boys  racing  a  "  bunch"  of  cat- 
tle down  the  hill  toward  the  corrals.  I  at  once  went 
outside,  and  one  of  the  boys,  seeing  me  standing  by  the 
gate,  came  down  at  a  gallop,  and  drew  rein  with  a 
hearty  "  How,  stranger !    Want  some  milk?" 

"  How  do  you  do ! "  I  replied.  "  Yes,  I  would  like  to 
get  some." 

"  Come  right  up  to  the  cow-corral,"  said  he,  turning 
his  horse  about,  "  and  Ed'll  strip  you  some.  He's  the 
only  stripper  'bout  the  ranch,  but  he  can  pull  milk  to 
beat  the  oldest  man/' 

I  followed  him  to  the  corral.  "  Here  Ed,"  he  said, 
as  a  boyish-looking  fellow,  wearing  a  buckskin  shirt 
and  a  wide-brimmed  slouch  hat,  rode  up  and  nodded  to 
me,  "  take  the  stranger's  bucket  and  pull  it  full  of  milk 
for  him  as  lively  as  ye  can.  Wants  it  for  supper,  I 
reckon." 

Ed  hitched  his  pony  to  the  corral,  and  took  my  pail. 
The  other  man  dismounted,  and  we  sat  down,  crossed 


HUNTING   STORIES.  91 

our  legs,  and  proceeded  to  "swap  talk."  In  the 
course  of  a  brief  conversation,  I  learned  that  he  had 
been  for  some  time  "  boss"  of  the  ranch,  and  also  that 
he  was  a  bright,  intelligent  fellow. 

Presently  I  pointed  to  the  pet  elk,  and  asked  how 
they  had  succeeded  in  taming  it  so  thoroughly.  "  Oh, 
elks  tame  easy  enough,  if  they  are  caught  young,"  he 
said.  "  I  had  a  pretty  hard  time  of  it,  though,  when 
we  got  Dudad,  as  we  call  him.  You'd  like  to  hear 
about  it,  perhaps  ?  Well,  I  reckon  you'll  have  time 
before  Ed  gets  through  with  his  milking. 

"  When  I  first  came  here,  five  years  ago,  tnere  were 
a  great  many  elk  in  the  country,  but  hunters  have 
driven  a  great  many  of  them  off  since.  They  used  to 
come  down  in  spring  from  the  Black  Hills  to  the  north 
and  west  of  here,  and  stay  all  summer  and  fall  along 
the  Chug,  and  out  east  on  the  plains.  They  scattered 
out  in  summer  to  breed  their  calves,  and  then  in  the 
fall  came  together  in  good-sized  herds,  and  I  tell  you 
there  were  some  old  settlers  among  the  bucks ;  big  as 
good-sized  steers,  and  ugly  as  grizzlies  when  they  were 
wounded  or  cornered. 

"  But  the  king  among  them  was  '  Old  Highflyer.'    I  - 
heard  the  boys  telling  about  him  almost  as  soon  as  1 
got  here — a  tremendous  old  buck,  that  overtopped  all 
the  others  by  five  or  six  inches. 

"  Every  boy  on  the  range  had  seen  him  and  knew 
him.  They  knew  him  by  his  size  and  by  his  motions. 
The  first  time  I  saw  him,  /  knew  him  too;  there 
couldn't  be  but  one  such  elk  in  the  country  at  a  time. 
What  horns  he  had ! 

"The  first  time  I  saw  him  was  during  the  June 
round-up,  about  a  month  after  I  came  here.    I  was 


92  BUNTING  STORIES. 

down  on  the  Chug,  about  five  miles  below  here,  gath- 
erin*  steers,  and  was  pushing  a  bnneh  along  up  through 
a  gap  in  the  hills,  when  all  at  once  I  saw  the  big  elk 
going  at  a  lightning  trot  over  a  point  of  hill  straight 
before  me. 

"  He  was  as  tall  and  big  as  a  large  five-year-old 
Texas  steer ;  and  his  branching  horns  were  longer  and 
wider  than  the  biggest  elk  I've  ever  seen.  He  got  out 
of  sight  before  I  had  time  to  use  my  carbine. 

"  Well,  I  saw  him  once  or  twice  more  that  summer, 
and  then  not  again  till  about  the  first  of  October,  down 
at  the  Eagle's  Nest,  four  miles  from  here.  That  was 
when  I  caught  Dudad.  It  was  the  queerest  thing,  the 
way  that  calf  was  caught,  jammed  in  between  two 
rocks  where  he'd  tried  tp  jump  through,  just  in  play,  I 
expect. 

"  I'd  gone  down  the  Chug  to  see  if  I  could  bring  in 
some  maverick  steers  that  had  cut  loose  from  a  Govern- 
ment herd,  that  a  day  or  two  before  had  been  driven 
north  for  the  forts.  It  was  just  above  a  canon  gap 
that  we  call  the  Eagle's  Nest.  I  was  poking  around 
down  in  there,  looking  for  the  steers,  when  I  found 
Old  Highflyer  instead. 

"  He  was  standing  on  the  side-hill  across  the  Chug, 
right  in  front  of  two  big  boulders  that  stuck  up  close 
to  the  edge  of  a  quakin'  asp  thicket.  There  was  a 
cow-elk  with  him.  She  was  trotting  back  and  forth 
around  him,  acting  kind  of  anxious  and  queer,  while 
he  stood  tossing  his  horns  up  and  down,  scrapin'  the 
rocks  now  and  then  with  a  sharp  scratching  noise, 
and  stampin'  his  feet  savage  and  nervous  like. 

"They  didn't  notice  me,  they  were  so  busy  with 
their  performance.    I  knew  there  was  something  that 


HUNTING  STORIES.  98 

serieusly  disturbed  them,  but  I  couldn't  make  out  what 
it  was.  My  carbine  was  at  the  ranch,  but  I  had  a  Colt 
six-shooter  with  me,  and  at  close  range  I  could  handle 
it  as  well  as  a  rifle.1  There  was  a  little  clump  of 
quakin'  asps  to  the  left,  and  between  me  and  the  elk, 
and  I  thought  if  I  could  just  get  behind  that,  I  should 
be  within  safe  shooting  distance. 

"  So,  slipping  off  my  pony,  I  led  him  back  and  tied 
him  out  of  sight,  and  then  began  to  work  my  way  up 
the  hill  behind  those  bushes.  It  was  slow  work,  for 
the  hill  was  steep  and  covered  with  loose  stones,  but  I 
managed  to  worm  along  without  making  much  noise. 

"Well,  I  got  up  behind  the  bushes  at  last,  and  out 
one  side  where  they  were  low,  and  peeped  out  through 
the  tops.  I  was  as  careful  as  possible,  but  before  I 
caught  sight  of  the  elk  I  heard  a  snort,  and  the  next 
minute  I  saw  them  both  standing,  heads  and  ears  up, 
facing  my  bushes.  They  had  he^ird,  or  scented  me, 
and  I  saw  I  must  be  quick  to  get  a  shot. 

"They  were  about  a  hundred  feet  away — close 
enough  range — and  I  took  a  quick  aim  and  pulled  the 
trigger.  But  I  wasn't  quite  quick  enough,  for  both  elk 
whirled  to  run,  and  I  missed  my  big  buck. 

"  The  two  scurried  away  up  the  hill  and  were  out  of 
sight  behind  the  quakin'  asps  in  no  time,  though  I  fired 
a  couple  of  shots  after  them,  jest  for  luck.  Then  I 
went  over  to  the  rocks  to  see  if  I  could  find  out  what 
had  been  going  on  there. 

"I  rather  reckoned  I'd  find  a  calf,  either  badly 
wounded  by  a  mountain  lion,  or  hurt  in  some  way,  but 
when  I  got  round  where  I  could  see  in  between  the 
boulders,  I  reckon  I  was  about  as  surprised  as  if  I'd 
b@m  suddenly  jumped  at  by  a  band  of  Sioux. 


94  hunting-  stories. 

"There  was  the  calf,  sure  enough,  and  in  the  queerest 
fix.  He'd  probably  been  playin'  round  the  rocks  and 
all  of  a  sudden  took  it  into  his  head  to  jump  through 
between  them,  and  was  stuck  there  fast  as  a  bear-trap 
could  have  held  him.  You  see,  the  rocks  came  close 
together,  in  a  kind  of  cone-like  shape,  and  the  crack 
between  them  widened  away  from  the  point  where  he 
was  caught,  and  there  he  hung,  the  crack  not  being 
wide  enough  to  let  him  through  into  the  space  beyond. 
All  he  ~ould  do  was  to  kick  and  blat.  As  soon  as  I 
stood  above  the  crack  he  saw  me  and  broke  out  in  good 
earnest,  bawling  like  a  crazy  thing,  while  his  feet  flew 
like  the  spokes  of  a  buggy-wheel. 

"  I  stood  there  a  moment,  and  could  not  help  laughing 
at  his  predicament.  All  at  once  I  heard  a  savage 
wheeze  and  a  clatter  of  hoofs,  and  looking  back,  saw 
Old  Highflyer  coming  for  me  like  a  steam-engine. 

"He  wasn't  a  hundred  feet  away,  and  was  coming 
with  his  ears  laid  back  and  his  hair  sticking  up  on  end. 
But  short  glimpse1  as  I  had  of  him,  I  noticed  that  his 
head  was  bloody,  showing  that  he  had  been  wounded. 

"  In  a  second  I  drew  my  Colt.  Getting  a  quick  aim, 
I  fired,  and  then  made  a  spring  for  the  crack  in  the 
rocks. 

"But  I  wasn't  quick  enough.  The  old  fellow  reached 
me  before  I  had  time  to  get  into  the  crevice,  and  with 
one  sweep  of  his  big  branching  horns,  struck  me  on  the 
left  hand  here— you  can  see  the  scar  yet.  I  had  it 
behind  me,  I  expect— so;  and  he  threw  me  into  a  heap 
on  the  ground. 

"  Only  my  hand  was  hurt,  and  I  scrambled  to  my 
feet  as  the  big  critter  went  ploughin'  down  the  hill— 
for  he  couldn't  stop  at  once,  he  was  going  so  swiftly. 


HUNTING    STOKIES.  95 

Then  I  scrambled  in  between  the  rocks  just  as  he  turned 
to  come  back. 

"  The  crevice  was  slightly  higher  than  my  head,  and 
I  was  in  a  hole,  as  it  were,  between  the  heels  of  the  calf 
and  the  southern  end  of  the  crevice.  My  revolver  was 
gone — knocked  out  of  my  hand. 

"  But  I  tell  you,  stranger,  for  a  few  minutes  I  found 
that  crack  in  between  the  boulders  the  most  uncom- 
fortable place  I  was  ever  in.  The  old  buck  came 
rushing  up,  and  glared  at  me  with  his  big  flashing 
eyes,  while  the  blood  dropped  out  of  his  nose  and 
mouth  from  a  wound  in  his  upper  jaw. 

"  Then  at  my  side  were  the  calf's  heels,  from  which 
I  had  not  room  enough  to  get  away — the  little  wretch 
raining  upon  me  thick  and  fast,  kick  after  kick — 
thump-a-thump !  thump!  Yes,  and  it  hurt,  too.  I 
thought  he'd  drive  me  wild ! 

"I  tried  to  catch  the  little  brute's  legs  with  my 
right  hand,  but  I  might  jest  as  well  have  tried  to  seize 
the  buck's  antlers  and  to  hold  him,.  But  something  had 
to  be  done,  and  that  soon,  for  I  felt  that  I  should  soon 
be  used  up  unless  I  could  get  away  from  that  calf's 
heels.  Lucky  for  me,  I  had  a  butcher-knife,  such  as 
most  of  the  boys  carry,  in  a  sheath  at  my  belt. 

"  I  got  that  out,  and  as  the  old  buck  threw  down  his 
head,  making  a  sideling  rake  along  the  crevice  with 
one  horn,  I  struck  him  in  the  face,  and  the  point  of  the 
knife  took  hold  of  the  corner  of  his  eye. 

"  It  was  a  lucky  stroke.  He  staggered  back  a  few 
steps,  holding  his  head  high  up  in  the  air ;  then  he  kind 
of  settled  back  and  shook  his  head,  gave  a  wild  squeal 
and  shot  away  as  fast  as  his  legs  could  take  him. 

"I  got  out  of  that  place  in  a  hurry,  and  found 


96  HUNTING  STOKIBS. 

myself  rather  used  up.  I  was  smarting  and  aching 
from  the  hurt  on  my  hand  and  from  I  don't  know  how 
many  bruises  on  my  back  and  legs.  The  fact  is,  I 
didn't  get  entirely  over  the  battering  I  had  had  for 
weeks.    I  was  glad  even  to  get  out  alive. 

"  I  found  my  revolver  and  managed  to  get  to  my 
pony  and  ride  back  to  the  ranch,  where  I  found  one  of 
the  boys  and  sent  him  up  after  the  calf,  which  you've 
seen  down  at  the  'dobes,  for  that  calf  was  Dudad. 

"  We've  never  seen  Old  Highflyer  since,  and  whether 
he  got  a  wound  from  which  he  died,  or  whether  he  was 
frightened  off  the  range  we  never  knew." 

Long  before  the  ranchman  had  finished  his  story, 
"  Ed "  had  set  the  bucket  of  milk  at  my  feet.  The 
"boys"  positively  refused  pay  for  the  milk,  and  after 
thanking  them,  I  carried  my  treasure  back  to  camp, 
where  I  was  found  fault  with  for  "gassing"  so  long 
with  the  cow-men. 


A  FIGHT  WITH  WOLVES. 

In  the  winter  of  1860-1  a  family  of  Trebolts  was 
living  in  a  frontier  settlement  west  of  the  Des  Moines 
River. 

Jesse  and  Peter  Trebolt  were  stout,  healthy  fellows 
who  helped  their  father  during  spring  and  summer,  in 
breaking  up  land  and  cultivating  the  new  claim  of  half 
a  section  upon  which  they  had  lived  for  two  years.  In 
the  autumn  and  winter,  however,  when  they  were  not 
attending  school  at  the  log  school-house  three  miles 
away,  they  were  engaged  in  trapping  and  hunting  the 
musk-rat,  mink  and  beaver. 

Like  thousands  of  the  first  settlers  of  Iowa  and  Min- 
nesota, the  Trebolts  found  their  annual  fur  harvest  the 
most  profitable  of  the  year.  Musk-rats  were  the  most 
plentiful  of  the  fur-bearing  animals,  and  during  the 
early  autumn  the  boys  took  them  in  small  steel  traps, 
which  they  set  in  "run  ways"  and  at  the  foot  of 
"mud  slides"  along  the  edges  of  sloughs  and  the 
banks  of  a  creek  which  ran  through  the  Trebolt  home- 
stead. 

But  after  the  ice  froze  so  as  to  bear  their  weight 
upon  the  surface  of  the  sloughs  and  little  lakes  in 
which  the  region  abounded,  they  killed  the  musquash 
with  their  "  rat  spears,"  sometimes  spearing  it  through 
the  thin  ice  as,  frightened  out  of  one  "  house,"  it  swam 
toward  another. 

When  the  ice  became  too  thick,  as  it  did  upon  the  sec- 
ond or  third  cold  snap,  to  spear  through,  they  cut  open 

97 


98  HUNTING   STORIES. 

the  tops  of  the  rat  houses— conical  heaps  built  of 
rushes,  flags  and  muck,  and  projecting  several  feet 
above  the  surface  of  the  water — exposing  the  hollow 
nest  of  the  little  animal.  Over  this  the  fur-hunter 
stood  guard  with  unlif  ted  spear  until  the  musk-rat, 
recovered  from  its  fright  at  his  thumping  and  cutting, 
popped  inside  with  eyes  blinking  and  fur  dripping, 
when  it  was  pinned  with  a  quick  thrust  of  the  pointed 
rod. 

The  rat-spear  was  made  of  a  sharpened  rod  of  iron  or 
steel,  without  barb  eighteen  or  twenty  inches  long,  and 
fastened  by  a  ferrule  to  a  light  ash  or  hickory  pole 
from  five  to  six  or  seven  feet  in  length. 

Upon  their  rat-spearing  excursions  Jesse  and  Peter 
carried  two  of  these  weapons,  made  of  strong,  steel 
rods  and  ash  poles,  and  a  heavy  hatchet  for  cutting 
open  the  houses. 

It  was  upon  an  extended  trip  of  this  kind  that  the 
adventure  which  follows  befell  them. 

Late  in  November  of  that  year,  the  two  lads  had 
received  a  brief  letter  from  an  old  Quaker  uncle  who 
had  left  the  settlement  in  which  they  lived  the  year 
before,  and  moved  with  his  wife  and  a  maiden  sister  to 
a  new  Quaker  colony  west  of  the  Raccoon  River  thirty- 
five  miles  distant.     It  ran  thus : 

"To  My  Dear  Nephews  Jesse  and  Peter  : 
"  Greeting:    I  have  to  say  to  you  that  I  and  your  Aunt 
Sarah  and  my  Sister  Alzina  would  be  much  pleased  to  see 
you  at  Christmas  time,  if  it  be  the  will  of  God  and  your 
father  that  you  should  make  such  a  journey  from  home. 

fi  Knowing  that  your  time  is  well  occupied,  and  with 
much  profit  in  the  taking  of  the  skins  of  wild  animals, 
I  have  to  say  further  that  the  ponds  and  wet  places  around 
about  my  land  do  greatly  abound  in  musk-rat,  and  that  I 


HUNTING  STORIES.  99 

have  staked  out  certain  of  them,  warning  off  them  which 
trap  about  here. 

"Now  if  you  will  come  with  your  spears,  I  think  you 
may  hunt  these  animals  two  or  three  weeks  with  much 
profit.  I  will  be  content  with  one-third  the  peltry  taken 
for  my  share. 

"  Affectionately  and  with  brotherly  lore, 
"  Your  uncle, 

"  Abeam  Jesse  Green. " 

As  both  muskrat  and  beaver  were  already  getting 
somewhat  scarce  along  the  Des  Moines,  Jesse  and 
Peter  were  glad  to  adopt  the  plan  of  their  shrewd 
old  uncle. 

Then  came  a  severe  blizzard  which  lasted,  blowing 
and  snowing  with  more  or  less  violence,  nearly  the 
whole  of  Christmas  week,  and  it  was  not  until  the 
morning  of  the  thirtieth  of  December  that  they  finally 
set  out. 

They  traveled  with  snow-shoes  made  of  hickory 
"shakes"  turned  up  at  the  front,  and  with  straps 
nearly  in  the  centre,  which  held  the  foot  at  the  instep 
and  toe.  They  carried  their  rat-spears,  a  hatchet,  and 
a  lunch  of  bread  and  meat. 

The  weather  had  turned  much  warmer,  and  during 
the  middle  of  the  day  it  thawed  so  that  the  snow 
yielded  under  their  shoes,  and  so  retarded  their  progress 
that  night  came  on  before  they  had  reached  the  Kac- 
coon  River,  twenty-eight  miles  from  home.  The  country 
at  that  time  was  very  thinly  settled,  and  it  so  happened 
that  there  were  no  houses  in  sight  during  the  latter  half 
of  their  route  until  the  "  Quaker  Colony  "  was  reached. 

They  would  gladly  have  stopped  at  some  settler's 
cabin  for  the  night,  but  fearing  they  might  be  com- 
pelled to  go  down  the  river  nearly  as  far  as  they 


100  HUNTING  STORIES. 

would  have  to  travel  to  reach  their  uncle's,  they  guided 
their  course  by  the  '•  Big  Dipper,"  and  plodded  on. 

They  had  nearly  crossed  the  narrow  valley  of  the 
river— it  was  little  more  than  a  large  ravine  at  this 
point — and  were  pushing  along  the  crest  of  a  huge 
drift  which  had  blown  out  from  the  top  and  point  of 
a  hill  between  two  gullies,  when  Peter,  who  was  ahead, 
noticed  a  number  of  dark  objects  moving  along  the 
side  hill,  near  the  head  of  the  drift  a  hundred  yards  or 
more  in  advance  of  him.  He  thought  at  first  that  a 
drove  of  deer  was  coming  up  out  of  the  valley  to  feed 
upon  the  bare  knolls  where  occasional  patches  of  grass 
were  exposed. 

He  turned  and  spoke  to  Jesse. 

"  Look  yonder,  Jess,  'f  we'd  jest  brought  the  shot- 
gun we  might  'a'got  a  ven'son ! " 

"Them's  no  deer,"  said  Jesse,  who  had  stopped 
just  behind  his  brother.  :l  They're  wolves,  Pete,  an '  a 
lot  of  'em  too ;  one,  two,  three,  four,  five,  six,  seven, 
eight,  nine  of  'em,  an '  big  buffalo  wolves,  too." 

While  he  was  counting,  the  animals,  which  were 
going  at  a  trot,  had  filed  up  to  the  hill-top,  and  stopped 
so  that  their  bodies  were  plainly  outlined  against  the 
sky. 

"  They've  stopped  to  have  a  look  at  us,  but  I  guess 
they  won't  dast  tackle  us,"  said  Peter.  "  That's  the 
most  of  them  big  wolves  I  ever  saw  in  one  drove,  but 
come  on,  Jess,  less  scat  'em  off,  an '  be  gettin'  to'rd  the 
col'ny." 

But  the  big  brutes  were  not  to  -be  scatted  so  readily 
as  Peter  had  fancied.  They  squatted  upon  their 
haunches,  and  waited  immovably  while  the  boys 
approached. 


HUNTING-    STORIES. 


101 


"  Scat ;  git  out  o'  the  road  yon  brutes,"  yelled  Peter, 
as  he  came  up  within  twenty  paces  or  so  of  where  they 
were  sitting. 


Several  of  them  moved  cautiously  a  little  to  one  side, 
and  squatted  themselves  again,  but  three  of  them  sat 
there  as  though  cut  out  of  rock. 


102  HUNTING  STORIES. 

Both  Peter  and  Jesse,  as  they  afterward  admitted, 
began  to  feel  nervous  and  afraid,  and  they  halted  fac- 
ing the  wolves.  The  big  animals,  now  plainly  distin- 
guishable, looked  fearfully  gaunt  and  hungry  and  their 
small  eyes  sparkled  viciously  in  the  starlight. 

"  Let's  take  down  the  side  hill,  an '  leave  'em  alone, 
Peter,"  said  Jesse.  "  They're  dangerous  brutes,  them 
big  fellows.  You  know  how  they  chased  old  Larry 
McGinigan  up  at  West  Bend  three  years  ago." 

"  Yes,"  returned  Peter,  "  but  there  was  more'n  thirty 
of  'em.  I  don't  b'lieve  't  nine  wolves  'd  dast  to  tackle 
two  men." 

Still  he  took  his  brother's  advice,  and  leading  the 
way  turned  to  the  left  and  started  down  the  side  of  the 
hill.  Jesse  moved  along  close  behind,  and  each  kept 
an  anxious  eye  over  his  should  sr  to  see  what  effect  this 
move  would  have  on  the  wolves. 

They  had  advanced  a  few  yards  to  a  point  nearly 
opposite  the  squatting  animals,  and  were  just  about  to 
pass  out  of  sight  when  the  pack,  setting  up  a  fierce  yelp 
and  shrilly  Ow-ow-ru-ru-vumg — this  is  Jesse's  attempt 
at  mimicry — came  leaping  down  toward  them. 

"  They're  goin'  to  pitch  into  us ! "  shouted  Jesse,  in 
alarm,  and  with  a  sudden  backward  movement  he 
attempted  to  get  out  of  his  snow-shoes ;  but  the  straps, 
wet  when  it  had  thawed,  had  frozen  to  his  boots,  and 
the  heels  of  his  shoes  catching  in  the  crust  tripped  him. 
He  fell  down  the  hill  sliding  and  rolling  for  several 
yards  over  the  slippery  crust  of  the  side  hill  drift. 

The  wolves  had  slackened  their  speed  as  Jesse  shouted, 

and  the  foremost  were  sliding  and  scratching  in  an 

effort  to  halt  as  he  fell,  and  whether  they  would  really 

attacked  him  had  it  not  been  for  this  accident 


HUNTING   STORIES.  103 

cannot  be  known.  Probably  not,  but  seeming  to 
realize  his  plight,  the  three  foremost  animals  sprang 
forward  again,  and  passing  Peter,  who  struck  at  them 
with  his  rat-spear,  they  jumped  savagely  at  Jesse, 
snapping  and  snarling. 

Jesse  had  lodged  in  the  hollow  of  a  drift,  and  as  the 
brutes  came  at  him  he  began  shouting  and  trying  to 
get  up,  but  the  snow-shoe  on  his  right  boot  still  stuck. 
He  had  let  go  his  spear,  and  as  he  raised  himself  to  a 
sitting  posture  one  of  the  wolves  in  its  mad  rush  caught 
one  of  his  coat-sleeves  in  its  teeth,  and  jerked  him  over 
upon  his  face.  All  three  of  the  animals  passed  him, 
but  gathered  themselves  again  and  came  at  him 
savagely. 

But  Peter,  who  had  got  out  of  his  shoe-straps,  now 
rushed  at  them,  made  a  hard  thrust  with  his  spear  at  one 
of  them,  and  luckily  struck  it  in  the  flank  with  a  force 
that  jammed  it  down  upon  the  snow.  Throwing  all  his 
weight  upon  the  handle  he  succeeded  in  pinning  the 
howling  brute,  and  forced  its  wriggling  body  through 
the  crust. 

The  outcries  of  the  struggling  animal  seemed  to 
madden  the  other  two  and  they  turned  from  Jesse, 
and  sprang  upon  it,  snapping  and  tearing  it  reck- 
lessly. 

Jesse,  who  had  turned  over  and  snatched  the  hatchet 
from  his  belt,  now  managed  to  scramble  to  his  feet. 
He  rushed  at  the  maddened  brutes,  struck  one  of 
them  upon  the  head,  crashed  its  skull  and  killed  it 
instantly. 

Encouraged  by  this  he  attacked  the  other,  and 
would  no  doubt  have  killed  it,  too,  had  not  the  beast 


104  HUNTING    STORIES. 

jumped  back  as  he  struck.     It  ran  off  down  the  hill 
yelping. 

Peter  was  still  holding  down  the  one  he  had  speared, 
but  a  few  raps  from  Jesse's  hatchet  quieted  the  squirm- 
ing beast,  and  the  two  panting  boys  looked  about  them. 
Several  of  the  pack  were  squatted  on  the  bank  above 
them  yelping,  and  licking  their  chops,  and  the  others 
were  moving  about  below.  These,  though  they  were 
evidently  ravenous  with  hunger,  did  not  seem  to  have 
the  hardihood  to  come  nearer. 

"  Are  ye  hurt,  Jess  ? "  Peter  asked,  when  they  had 
discovered  the  attitude  of  the  remaining  animals 

Jesse  replied  that  he  was  not  injured,  but  that  he  was 
awfully  scared,  and  that  one  coat-sleeve  was  nearly 
torn  off  him. 

"  Well,"  said  Peter,  *'  I  guess  if  we  go  off  'n'  leave 
these  dead  ones  the  rest'll  eat  -em  up  'n'  be  satisfied 
for  to-night,  but  let's  skin  'em  first." 

Jesse  agreed,  so  they  got  out  their  knives,  laid  their 
spears  and  the  hatchet  close  at  hand,  and  set  at  work 
The  seven  remaining  wolves  were  interested  spectators 
of  the  task ;  they  gathered  around  at  a  few  rods  dis- 
tance, sniffing,  yelping  occasionally,  and  anxiously 
shifting  about. 

When  the  boys  had  finished  skinning  the  dead  ani- 
mals, each  fastened  a  pelt  at  his  belt,  got  on  their  snow- 
shoes,  and  shouting  and  brandishing  their  spears  at  the 
nearest  wolves  to  "  warn  'em  not  to  follow,"  set  out 
again  in  the  direction  of  the  Quaker  colony. 

They  had  not  gone  a  hundred  yards  when  they  heard 
the  pack  behind  them  yelping,  snarling  and  fighting 
over  the  carcasses  of  the  dead  wolves. 

They  reached  Abram  Green's  cabin,  having  awak- 


HUNTING   STOKIES.  105 

ened  one  of  his  neighbors  to  inquire  for  it,  a  little  after 
midnight.  The  old  gentleman  and  his  wife  got  up  to 
give  them  welcome  and  while  "  Aunt  Sarah  "  made  a 
cup  of  coffee  and  got  them  a  "  a  bit  to  eat "  they  related 
their  adventure. 

The  old  gentleman  and  his  wife  were  much  concerned 
at  the  narrative,  and  the  old  man  then  told  them  of  the 
trouble  he  and  his  neighbors  had  been  at  to  keep  their 
chickens,  pigs  and  young  animals  out  of  the  hungry 
maws  of  these  same  brutes.  There  was  a  drove,  he 
said,  infesting  the  neighborhood  of  somewhere  from 
ten  to  fifteen  of  these  animals,  and  the  nine  which  had 
attacked  them  must  have  belonged  to  it.  Their  boldness 
had  been  extraordinary,  but  as  there  was  not  a  gun  in 
the  whole  colony,  he  thought  this  fact  and  the  late 
severe  weather  had  probably  lent  courage  to  the  bolder 
ones,  and  driven  them  to  the  point  of  attacking  the 
two  young  men. 

During  the  three  weeks  of  successful  rat-spearing 
which  followed,  Peter  and  Jesse  saw  numbers  of  these 
wolves,  and  at  length  several  of  them  became  so  bold 
as  to  follow  them  about  from  pond  to  pond  in  broad 
day,  eating  the  carcasses  of  the  musk-rats  which  were 
thrown  upon  the  ice  near  the  small  hummocks  where 
they  had  been  speared. 


,  J\.,l.  I,« 
IN  THE  FRONT  OF  A  STAMPEDE. 

Jean  Darblaye,  who  is  now  a  Montana  ranchman, 
is  a  modest  man,  and  seldom  recounts  any  adventures 
in  which  he  bore  a  prominent  part ;  but  he  was  lately 
persuaded  to  tell  the  story  of  one  of  his  experiences, 
which  deserves  wider  currency  than  it  has  yet  had. 

Jean  was  the  son  of  French-Canadian  parents,  but 
was  born  at  a  frontier  post  in  northern  Minnesota.  At 
seven  years  of  age  he  was  sent  to  St.  Louis  to  school, 
and  for  eight  years  attended  the  Academy  of  St. 
Philippe,  but  returned  every  spring  by  boat  to  spend 
the  summer  with  his  father  at  the  post. 

His  time  while  at  home  was  occupied  in  athletic 
sports  and,  as  he  grew  older,  in  hunting.  His  com- 
rades were  Indian  boys,  young  Sioux,  who  taught  him 
to  shoot  with  bow  and  arrow,  to  ride  their  stocky  and 
often  stubborn  little  ponies,  and  to  play  at  lacrosse. 
He  used  also  to  paint  his  face  and  join  them  in  their 
mimic  war-dances,  in  which  he  could  yell  as  loudly  as 
any  of  his  companions. 

When  Jean  was  fifteen  years  of  age,  his  father 
moved  westward  and  established  a  trading  post  on  the 
Upper  Missouri,  near  the  Belted  Buttes.  Here  he 
bought  furs  in  connection  with  the  Northwest  Fur 
Company. 

Jean  left  school,  and  for  the  next  four  years  assisted 
his  father  in  buying  and  trading  "Indian  goods "  for 
furs,  and  in  caring  for  the  great  bales  in  the  store- 
room, which  had  to  be  "  camphored  "*and  "  tobaccoed" 

w 


HtTNTlUS  STOEIES.  107 

to  protect  them  from  dampness  and  moths.  When  he 
was  nineteen  years  old  his  father  died  of  a  wound 
received  from  a  drunken  Mandan.  Mr.  Darblaye's 
business  affairs  were  not  in  a  prosperous  condition  at 
this  time,  and  when  his  accounts  with  the  fur  company 
were  settled,  there  were  but  a  few  hundred  dollars 
remaining  for  Jean. 

Left  to  shift  for  himself,  the  young  frontiersman  set 
to  work  at  once  with  an  enterprise  characteristic  of  his 
race.  Feeling  that  he  had  not  the  means  nor  the 
experience  to  enable  him  successfully  to  compete 
with  the  agents  of  the  Northwest  Fur  Company,  he 
went  to  St.  Louis,  and  there  made  arrangements  for  the 
sale  of  buffalo  hides,  tongues  and  "  hump  steak."  He 
engaged  a  boat  to  make  regular  spring  and  fall  trips 
to  the  Belted  Buttes  region  for  the  loads  of  hides  and 
meat  which  he  proposed  to  furnish  to  the  St.  Louis 
market. 

Having  purchased  some  improved  guns  and  other 
articles  needful  for  his  undertaking,  he  went  back  to  the 
Great  Bend  of  the  Missouri,  hired  three  half-breeds  and 
their  squaws  as  assistants,  and  turned  buffalo  hunter. 

The  young  hunter's  first  season  was  a  prosperous 
one.  He  kept  two  yoke  of  oxen,  a  wagon  and  a  driver 
busy  for  six  weeks  in  hauling  hides  and  meat  to  the 
storehouse  to  be  cured  and  stored. 

Jean  sent  two  boat  loads  down  the  river  the  first 
autumn,  two  the  next  spring,  and  cleared  about  three 
hundred  dollars  off  each  cargo.  This  amount  he 
regarded  as  a  fair  return  for  his  labor  and  investment, 
as  risks  were  scarcely  counted  in  that  region. 

The  months  of  September  and  October  and  of  May 
and  June  were  the  periods  in  whtch  the  great  herds 


108  HUNTING   STORIES. 

migrated  between  their  summer  pastures  on  the  high 
prairies  of  the  British  possessions  and  their  winter  feed- 
ing- grounds  along  the  Niobrara  and  the  Platte.  At 
these  times  the  country  about"  Jean's  headquarters 
swarmed  with  buffalo. 

\  Almost  daily  throughout  these  months  great  herds 
of  buffalo  crossed  the  river  above  and  below  the  young 
trader's  block-house,  and  his  most  profitable  method  of 
hunting  was  to  shoot  them  from  a  boat  as  they  swam 
above  his  post.  The  dead  bodies  were  floated  down  to 
within  a  few  rods  of  the  post  stockade,  and  hauled  out 
upon  the  bank,  where  they  were  skinned,  and  the 
tongues  and  hump  steaks  cut  from  them.  In  this  man- 
ner buffaloes  were  killed  and  brought  down  from 
points  twenty  and  even  thirty  miles  distant. 

During  the  season  when  the  buffaloes  were  migrat- 
ing, half-breed  seouts  employed  by  Jean  scoured  the 
hills  and  the  rolling  prairies  above  the  post,  watching 
for  any  herds  which  might  be  pointing  toward  the 
river,  or  feeding  in  situations  whence  they  could  be 
stampeded  toward  its  waters. 

While  the  scouts  were  out,  Jean  and  his  hunters 
were  accustomed  to  remain  at  some  favorable  point  on 
the  river,  with  canoes  and  ponies  at  hand.  If  there 
was  time  after  a  scout  came  in  to  give  warning,  they  pad- 
dled to  a  point  just  above  where  the  herd  was  expected 
to  cross,  and  waited. 

But  if  greater  haste  were  necessary,  they  mounted 
their  ponies  and  rode  at  a  flying  gallop  for  the  point  of 
crossing,  and  taking  their  position  on  the  bank,  shot 
the  big  animals  as  they  lunged  into  the  water  or  swam 
past. 

During  the  second  autumn  of  Jean's  buffalo-hunting, 


HUNTING  STORIES.  109 

there  came  down  from  the  north  the  largest  herd  that 
he  ever  saw,  except  the  mighty  one  that  afterwards 
came  into  the  vicinity  of  Fort  Bice,  and  is  known  in  a 
legend  among  the  soldiers,  scouts  and  hunters  as  the 
"  Eight-Mile  Square  Herd." 

-  About  the  twentieth  of  September  ope  of  his  hunters 
rode  to  Jean's  station  with  the  information  that  a  herd, 
"  as  wide  as  the  eye  could  see,"  was  moving  slowly  up 
from  the  Buttes  in  a  direction  that  would  bring  them  to 
the  river  at  a  point  twenty  miles  above  the  station. 

A  young  fellow  of  eighteen  years,  the  son  of  a  boat 
captain  who  lived  in  Yicksburg,  was  staying  with  Jean 
at  the  time,  having  come  up  the  river  for  a  hunt.  He 
had  been,  out  several  times  after  buffalo,  but  had  not 
succeeded  in  killing  one.  When  the  news  of  the  big 
herd  came  in,  he  was  wild  with  excitement. 

"lean  get  one  this  time!"  shouted  he,  after  Jean 
had  interpreted  the  Indian's  report.  "  Where  there's 
no  end  to  'em,  there's  a  mighty  sure  chance." 

V  Well,  Louis,"  said  Jean — the  lad's  name  was  Louis 
Longstreet— "  you  shall  have  a  try,  only  don't  get  so 
nervous,  or  you  won't  be  able  to  handle  your  gun." 

Five  minutes  later  the  two  young  hunters  were  in  the 
saddle.  Jean  had  sent  his  scout  back  with  instructions 
to  stampede  the  big  herd  as  soon  as  he  and  the  other 
two  scouts  who  were  waiting  out  among  the  hills  could 
get  in  behind  it. 

Jean  and  Louis  then  started,  keeping  to  the  hills 
which  skirt  the  valley  at  a  distance  of  from  one  to 
three  miles  from  the  river.  This  route  was  taken  that 
they  might  keep  a  lookout  for  the  herd,  and  avoid  also 
the  danger  of  being  caught  by  the  front  of  the  stain- 


110  HUNTING  STORIES. 

pede  and  forced  into  the  river,  which  might  occur  if 
they  kept  too  near  the  bank. 

It  is  not  often  that  the  accidents  we  fear  happen  to 
us,  but  in  this  instance  Jean's  very  precaution  served  to 
get  himself  and  his  companion  entrapped  at  a  point 
where  escape  from  contact  with  the  wide  front  of  the 
immense  herd  was  impossible. 

Jean  and  Louis  had  set  out  about  the  middle  of  the 
forenoon,  and  Jean  calculated  that,  if  nothing  unusual 
should  disturb  the  buffaloes,  the  Indians  would  get 
them  started  shortly  after  mid-day,  and  thus  the  fore- 
most buffalo  should  reach  the  river  at  about  three 
o'clock. 

There  were  two  canoes  hidden  among  some  willows 
at  the  mouth  of  a  small  creek  about  twenty  miles 
above  the  post,  and  Jean  expected,  after  finding  the 
buffaloes,  to  reach  the  canoes  in  time  to  paddle  down 
to  some  bar  or  island  from  which  they  could  advan- 
tageously shoot  the  swimming  animals.  He  dared  not 
trust  so  inexperienced  a  hunter  as  Louis  in  a  boat 
among  swimming  buffaloes. 

For  about  two  hours  they  proceeded  on  their  way. 
Jean  all  the  time  watched  for  some  sign  of  the  big 
herd.  About  noon  several  small  bands  of  buffaloes 
were  sighted  upon  some  elevations  directly  south  of  a 
high  point  upon  which  the  riders  had  halted  to  take 
observations.  These,  the  young  trader  concluded, 
were  outposts  of  the  main  herd,  which  he  had  no  doubt 
were  quietly  feeding  upon  the  short,  dry  grass  of  the 
depressed  prairie  which  lay  between  his  point  of  view 
and  the  Belted  Buttes,  the  conical  tops  of  which  could 
be  seen  in  the  distance. 

Just  in  front  of  the  horsemen  were  some  hills,  higher 


HUNTING   STOKIES.  '  111 

than  the  one  they  had  mounted.  In  order  to  avoid 
climbing  these,  Jean,  who  thought  that  he  had  suf- 
ficiently located  the  game,  determined  to  travel  in  the 
river  valley  for  the  rest  of  the  distance.  He  pointed 
out  to  Louis  a  willow-grown  island  in  the  river  opposite 
to  where  they  had  halted. 

"  "We'll  ride  up  the  valley  about  five  miles  to  where 
the  canoes  lie,"  said  he,  "  and  then  paddle  down  to 
that  island,  where  we'll  land  and  wait  for  'em.  It'll 
take  us  an  hour  and  a  half,  and  by  that  time  the  big 
herd  will  be  moving  this  way  with  a  noise  like 
thunder." 

They  descended  into  the  valley  and  urged  their 
ponies  on  at  a  sharp  gallop.  Just  in  front  of  them 
the  river  curved  and  flowed  for  several  miles  to  the 
east. 

They  had  turned  this  bend  and  had  pushed  on  for 
two  miles  or  more,  the  valley  narrowing  constantly 
as  they  proceeded,  when,  just  ahead  of  them,  there 
burst  over  the  high  ground,  amid  a  cloud  of  dust,  a 
great  rolling  mass  of  dark  objects,  which  covered  the 
sloping  hill-sides  almost  instantly. 

The  riders  came  to  a  sudden  halt/ 

"  The  big  herd !  "  said  Jean,  hurriedly.  "  We'll  have 
to  scatter,  Louis — too  bad — but  down  stream's  the  only 
safe  route  for  us,  and  we  must  hurry,  too — some  mis- 
take— confound  those  rascals ! "  meaning  the  Indian 
hunters. 

They  could  now  hear  the  heavy  rumble  of  hoofs 
which,  coming  in  the  distance,  had  been  lost  in  the 
clatter  of  their  horses'  rapid  gallop.  Louis  thought 
it  did,  indeed,  sound  like  the  mutter  of  distant 
thunder. 


112  HUNTING   STORIES. 

They  wheeled  their  ponies  and  struck  the  spurs 
into  their  flanks.  To  their  right  stretched  the  range 
of  hills  which  had  hidden  the  coming  herd,  and  to 
their  left,  a  mile  distant,  ran  the  river,  sweeping 
round  nearly  in  front  of  them,  a  few  minutes'  ride 
ahead. 

"  Bide  hard ! "  shouted  Jean. 

They  were  close  to  the  foot-hills,  and  the  herd  was 
bearing  down  on  them  with  a  roar  that  increased  like, 
the  sudden  rising  of  the  wind. 

They  spurred  their  ponies  vigorously,  and  were  get- 
ting a  good  rate  of  speed  out  of  the  short-legged  little 
fellows,  when  out  from  a  big  ravine,  not  three  hundred 
yards  ahead,  there  shot  a  great  solid  tongue  ofbuf- 
f aloes,  and  over  the  hill  to  the  right  swept  a  dense  black 
mass,  filling  in  the  gap  between  those  behind  and  those 
ahead. 

Jean  and  Louis  were  trapped!  hemmed  in  on  all 
sides  but  one,  and  on  that  side  was  the  river. 

Instinctively  both  riders  veered  off  and  made  for 
the  head  of  the  stampede,  which  was  now  rapidly 
rolling  on  in  front  of  them.  The  buffaloes  had  evi- 
dently received  a  wild  alarm  from  some  source  in 
the  rear,  for  the  huge,  irregular  crescent,  literally  a 
living,  moving  wall,  bore  down  on  the  young  hunters 
at  a  fearful  speed. 

Less  than  a  minute  of  riding  toward  the  head  of  the 
column  before  him  convinced  Jean  of  the  impossibility 
of  overreaching  and  passing  it.  There  was  only  one 
thing  left  to  do — make  to  the  river  and  swim  for  it ; 
and,  motioning  Louis  to  follow,  he  headed  his  pony 
straight  for  the  river  bank. 

Jean  glanced  back  over  his  shoulder;   the  central 


HUNTING  STORIES.  113 

mass  of  the  big  stampede  was  about  tnree  hundred 
yards  behind  them,  nor  could  the  small  ponies,  already- 
winded  with  twenty  miles  of  hard  riding,  increase  the 
distance.  Foremost  in  the  stampede  were  the  biggest, 
swiftest,  bulls,  their  sides  almost  touching  as,  with 
heads  down,  they  bowled  their  huge,  lumbering  bodies 
forward,  reckless  of  anything  ahead  in  their  fright'at 
what  was  behind  them.  In  the  rear  of  the  bulls  was  a 
confused,  heaving  mass,  lost,  at  no  great  distance,  in  a 
rising  cloud  of  dust  that  seemed  endless.  * 

Louis  was  badly  frightened,  but  kept  his  wits  and 
followed  every  move  of  Jean's.  They  rode  directly 
for  the  river  and  reached  its  bank  together;  but  here 
both  ponies  so  quickly  and  stubbornly  halted  that 
Louis,  though  a  good  rider,  was  pitched  clean  over  his 
animal's  head  and  alighted  upon  his  shoulder  on  the 
edge  of  the  bank.  He  clutched  at  the  top  of  the  bank 
with  his  right  hand — his  left  arm  was  bruised  and 
numbed  from  the  shock— clung  for  a  brief  instant, 
then  slid  down  some  ten  or  twelve  feet  into  the  cur- 
rent. 

Jean  made  one  more  effort  to  force  his  animal  over 
the  brink,  but  failed;  then,  too  much  alarmed  for 
Louis  to  wait  longer,  he  sprang  from  the  saddle,  threw 
away  his  gun  and  jumped  after  his  comrade. 

Louis  was  thrashing  the  water  with  one  arm  in  a 
desperate  effort  to  swim  away  from  the  bank,  but  his 
wounded  arm  and  the  weight  of  his  clothes  and  heavy 
boots  impeded  him,  the  thick  muddy  water  dragged 
him  down,  and  the  poor  fellow  would  have  sunk  even 
before  the  buffaloes  were  upon  him  had  not  Jean  come 
to  the  rescue. 

Jean's  ideas  of  what  followed  during  the  next  few 


114  HUNTING   STORIES. 

seconds  are  confused ;  but  he  remembers  that  he  got 
hold  of  Louis,  and  helped  to  buoy  him  up  while  they 
kicked  and  struggled  hard  against  the  current;  that 
they  managed  to  get  a  few  yards  from  the  shore. 

Then  buffaloes  seemed  to  ram  down  over  the  bank, 
ploughing  its  steep  sides  and  sousing  into  the  water 
with  heavy  splashes,  making  the  current  boil  around 


The  next  instant  the  desperate  hunters  were  in  the 
midst  of  a  puffiing,  snorting  mass  of  big,  hairy  swim- 
mers, a  sea  of  humps,  horns  and  noses.  As  a  big  bull 
came  grunting  alongside  of  the  two  young  men,  Jean, 
who  knew  that  the  buffalo  is  inoffensive  in  the  water, 
made  a  grab  with  his  free  hand  and- caught  the  old  fel- 
low by  the  long  hair  on  his  hump.  6S  Now,  Louis,  get 
hold  here ! "  he  shouted ,  and  Louis,  who  was  recover- 
ing the  use  of  his  arm,  got  hold  with  both  hands. 

"Now  we're  all  right,5'  said  Jean,  "only  keep  well 
behind  so  he  won't  turn."  The  bull  snorted  wildly  at 
the  sound  of  the  shouts,  and  swam  frantically  in  the 
effort  to  get  free  from  his  unwelcome  freight. 

Jean,  still  keeping  fast  hold  of  the  great  brute's 
mane,  drifted  backward  as  far  as  he  could  and  then 
flopped  himself  over  the  creature's  sunken  hindquar 
ters,  so  that  it  now  towed  one  person  on  each  side 
Once  the  bull  turned  his  head  as  if  about  to  face  about5 
but  Jean  promptly  let  go  with  his  right  hand  and 
struck  him  a  blow  on  the  eye, 

u  Don't  let  him  turn  your  way  Louis,"  said  Jean. 
M  Let's  keep  him  as  straight  ahead  as  he  can  go.  Kick 
hard  and  help  all  you  can ;  we  must  get  across  before 
the  rest  of  'em  if  possible." 

Louis  readily  comprehended  the  situation.     The  cool 


auirriNG  stokhs.  115 

water  helped  him  to  regain  the  use  of  his  arm,  in 
which,  fortunately,  no  bone  was  broken,  and  he  worked 
vigorously  to  relieve  the  bull  of  a  part  of  the  burden 
of  drawing  him  on  behind. 

The  old  fellow  proved  to  be  a  strong  swimmer,  and 
exerting  himself  to  the  utmost  to  get  rid  of  his 
hangers-on,  he  reached  shallow  water  several  rods  in 
advance  of  the  nearest  others  of  the  herd.  Here  the 
boys  let  go  the  bull,  which  lunged  himself  out  upon  a 
projecting  sand-bar  and  thence  up  the  bank  beyond. 

Jean  and  Louis  followed  the  bull  to  the  shore,  and 
ran  to  some  scattered  cottonwoods  which  grew  along 
the  bank.  Each  got  behind  a  tree,  and  there  stood 
wringing  his  clothes  and  slapping  his  arms  to  warm 
himself,  while  for  fifteen  or  twenty  minutes  the  drip- 
ping herd  lumbered  past  them,  the  swelling  sea  of 
humps  stretching  for  half  a  mile  on  either  side. 

An  hour  later  Jean's  hunters,  who  had  ridden  up  on 
the  other  side,  discovered  Jean  and  Louis,  who  were 
pacing  the  bank  as  they  awaited  their  comrades'  arri- 
val. One  of  the  hunters  went  for  a  canoe  and  came 
across  after  them.  Then  they  learned  that  a  party  of 
Aniskaras  from  above  had  stampeded  the  herd  and  had 
hung  upon  its  outskirts  until  they  had  killed  as  many 
buffaloes  as  they  wanted, 

Since  he  left  his  saddle  to  plunge  to  the  rescue  of  his 
comrade,  Jean  has  never  seen  nor  heard  of  either  of 
the  ponies  which  he  and  Louis  rode  on  the  day  of  the 
stampede.  They  were  undoubtedly  forced  into  the 
river,  and  either  were  drowned  or  swam  to  the  other 
bank  and  ran  on  with  the  herd.  He  is  inclined  to  think 
that  they  crossed  safely  and  were  picked  up  by  some 


116 


HOTTING  STORIES. 


straggling  band  of  the  Assinneboines  or  Orees,  who 
hunted  upon  that  side  of  the  river. 

One  of  the  half-breeds,  after  much  diving,  recovered 
Louis's  gun  from  the  mud  of  the  river,  and  it  was  found 
to  be  uninjured.  But  Jean's  gun,  which  he  also  recov 
ered,  was  bent,  broken  and  useless. 


XIII. 

IN  NICK    OF  TIME. 

Round  our  camp-fire  again  at  the  West  Fork  after  a 
grand  day  of  wild-goose  hunting,  Capt.  Buck  regaled 
us  with  the  following  story  of  his  boyhood,  and  old 
times  here  on  the  Red  River. 

"  Ah,  those  were  pleasant  days ! "  said  he.  "You  can 
hardly  appreciate  the  agreeable  life  we  used  to  lead  on 
the  Mississippi  in  the  old  days  before  the  war.  You 
see,  my  old  gentleman  owned  a  large  plantation  and 
many  negroes  on  the  river  above  Baton  Rouge.  We 
spent  our  summers  there  and  our  winters  at  New 
Orleans.  There  was  a  large  family  of  us  children — 
ten  in  all — and  we  were  educated  at  home.  Our  tutor 
was  generally  some  graduate  from  Yale  or  Harvard, 
who  kept  us  at  our  studies  for  five  hours  each  day  for 
eight  months  in  the  year. 

"  We  always  had  a  vacation,  however,  from  Christ- 
mas until  the  first  of  February ;  and  then  my  older 
brother,  Chester,  and  I — we  were  the  eldest  of  the  six 
boys — were  allowed  to  do  our  hunting  for  the  year, 
and  did  the  most  of  it,  too,  along  the  banks  and  bayous 
of  the  Red  River  here.  My  whole  boyhood  was  associ- 
ated with  this  muddy,  red  current,  that  glistens  so 
brightly  out  there  in  the  moonlight. 

"  Every  winter  we  used  to  take  a  trip  as  far  up  as 
Shreveport,  then  a  little  place  of  not  as  much  conse- 
quence as  now.  Father  owned  land  and  raised  cotton 
and  horses  on  both  sides  of  the  Mississippi,  and  kept  a 


118  HUNTING    ST0EIE8. 

small  steam  wherry  for  transporting  stock  and  hands 
back  and  forth. 

"  This  wherry  was  usually  in  the  charge  of  an  old 
negro  named  '  Gub,'  one  of  father's  best  hands  in  his 
younger  days,  and  in  the  winter  time,  when  there 
wasn't  much  use  for  the  boat,  Gub  was  allowed  to 
accompany  us  on  our  up-river  hunting  trips. 
"  There  was  a  comfortable  cabin  on  the  Gorbeau,  as  we 
called  the  boat.  The  wherry  was  a  broad,  light  paddle- 
wheel,  a  sort  of  scow,  barge  and  steamer  combined; 
and  as  she  drew  but  little  water,  we  had  no  trouble  in 
guiding  her  among  the  snags  and  over  the  bars,  or  out 
upon  the  wide  bayous  and  lagoons  of  the  tamarack 
swamps  below  Shreveport. 

"We  took  our  first  trip  in  '53,  when  I  was  a  lad  oi 
fourteen  and  Chet  but  two  years  older,  and  we  kept,  up 
those  excursions  every  winter  until  the  war. 

"  It  was  in  '56,  though,  that  we  had  our  most  mem- 
orable hunt.  Chet  and  I  had  finished  our  regular 
studies,  and  Willett,  our  tutor,  a  young  fellow  from 
Harvard,  now  a  noted  college  professor,  was  to  leave 
us  and  make  room  for  a  governess,  as  the  girls  all  came 
between  us  and  the  younger  boys.  We  liked  the  fellow 
thoroughly,  and  determined  that  he  should  make  one 
trip  with  us  before  he  went  North. 

"  He  consented,  for  he  liked  sport  and  was  a  fair 
shot  j  so  after  the  holidays  we  left  New  Orleans  for  the 
plantation,  and  found  old  Gub  and  the  Corbeau  ready 
for  our  use  and  provisioned  for  eight  weeks. 

"  For  guns  we  had  three  fine  rifles,  an  extra  double- 
barrel  fowling-piece  and  two  big  English  duck  guns, 
with  spears  and  fishing  tackle.  Besides  these,  we  car- 
ried several  dogs,  the  best  of  the  plantation  pack,  for 


HUNTING   STORIES.  Hf 

the  bear  and  deer  of  the  woods  and  hills  above  Alexan- 
dria. 

"It  was  to  one  of  these  dogs,  a  half  Cuban,  half  fox- 
hound, that  I  owed  my  life  on  that  trip.  Yes,  old  Brian 
was,  1  think,  the  keenest  hunter  I've  ever  known, 
though  I've  seen  finer  bred  house-dogs  that  were  as 
intelligent  as  he. 

"Point  Roseau,  or  Roseau  Point,  as  we  called  it, 
was  always  our  first  stopping-place  after  leaving  home. 
It  is  a  three-cornered  peninsula,  formed  by  the  banks 
of  the  Red  on  one  side,  and  one  of  the  Bayoux  Des 
Roseaux  (Reed  Bayou)  on  the  other. 

"  These  bayoux  were  broad  strips  of  green  water, 
grown  up  with  reeds,  rushes  and  cane  about  the  edges, 
and  full  of  mud  bars,  old  logs,  snags  and  alligators. 
The  Point,  a  low  piece  of  land  two  or  three  miles  in 
extent,  was  a  wild  swamp  of  tamarack  and  red  elm, 
^ark  and  tangled  with  vines  and  undergrowth. 

"  It's  not  a  very  inviting  country,  as  you  may  sup- 
pose, but  we  were  obliged  to  *  wood-up  *  somewhere, 
and  there  were  large  quantities  of  dry  elm  along  the 
bank  here  ;  and  dry  red  elm  is  the  best  kind  of  fuel. 

"  And  then,  too,  those  bayoux  were  usually  alive  with 
geese  and  ducks.  The  reed  patches  and  the  long  flat 
mud  bars,  grown  over  with  moss  and  wire  grass,  made 
fine  feeding-grounds  for  these  birds ;  and  we  carried  a 
light  boat  for  use  in  this  kind  of  hunting.  If  more 
stirring  adventure  was  wanted,  there  were  the  bear  and 
panther  and  tiger-cat  of  the  swamp,  fierce  enough  to 
satisfy  any  man's  thirst  for  excitement. 

"  Well,  we  had  reached  this  point  on  our  trip  about 
three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  and  had  tied  up  to  the 


120  HUNTING   STOKIES. 

same  tree  that  we  always  hitched  to,  on  the  Point  just 
at  the  mouth  of  the  bayou. 

"  "Willett  was  anxious  to  get  a  shot  at  the  wild  geese 
that  we  could  hear  squalling  up  at  the  first  neck  of  the 
bayou ;  and  Chet  and  I  drew  cuts  to  see  which  of  us 
should  go  out  first  with  him.  The  lot  fell  to  Chet,  and 
they  went  away,  while  Gub  and  I  were  left  to  keep 
company  with  the  dogs  and  to  cut  up  the  dry  elms  upon 
the  bank. 

"  We  worked  away  cheerfully  enough,  cracking  jokes 
and  telling  stories — Gub's  black  pate  was  crammed 
with  both — until  sundown,  when  the  old  negro  dropped 
his  end  of  the  saw  with  a  significant  gesture  that  meant 
*  'nough  o'  dat.' 

" '  Marse  Pink,  yo'  jes'  tu'n  up  yo'  nose  dis  way. 
Yeh  ? '  spreading  out  his  palm  toward  the  northwest 
and  rolling  up  the  whites  of  his  eyes.  '  Yo*  smell 
sumpin',  yeh  ?  Yo'  don'  yah  now ;  ye'  an'  got  no  smell 
no  how,  yo'  ain't.  X  kin  smell  'possum  shoah,'  rolling, 
his  eyes  again.  ' '  Possum  not  mo'n  two  mile  up  yivvuh 
'mong  de  high  banks  '  n '  de  yoke  trees ;  shoah  be  thar, 
marse ! " 

" '  All  right,  Gub,'  said  I,  willing  to  humor  the  old 
fellow  with  a  bit  of  his  favorite  sport.  *  Go  after  'em, 
old  man,  and  I'll  get  supper.' 

"  *  Thankee,  mars  ! '  returned  the  grinning  old  black, 
with  a  profound  scrape  and  bow.  '  Bring  a  f  atun  'n'  tress 
'im  foh  dinnah  de  morreh  ; '  and  in  no  time  he  was  on 
board,  had  down  the  remaining  duck  gun,  and  had 
gone  among  the  dogs  for  his  favorite  hunter,  Bug,  a 
genuine  'possum  dog,  if  ever  there  was  one. 

"  But  while  unleashing  that  cur,  the  old  black  made 


HUNTING    ST0KIES.  121 

a  discovery,  and  came  to  meet  me  at  the  bow  with 
both  hands  up. 

"  'Marse,  dem  dawgs  Brian  un  Nig,  dey  is  bofe  done 
gone.    Dey  is  boke  de  lease  shoah/ 

"  Sure  enough,  they  had  jumped  over  the  railing  at 
the  bows,  and  sneaked  off  without  our  seeing  them. 

"  { That  comes  of  tying  them  with  ropes,  Gub,'  said 
I.  '  But  never  mind ;  they've  only  gone  after  Chet  and 
Willett,  and  will  be  back  with  'em.  Spoil  some  of 
their  sport,  though,  quite  likely.' 

"  'Dat  so,'  replied  Gub;  'yo'  don'  heah  'em  no  mo' 
now ;'  and  with  that  Gub  jumped  ashore  and  left  me, 

"  It  was  a  pleasant,  warm  evening ;  I  watched  the 
twilight  fade  and  the  moon  grow  bright.  The  big 
gloomy  swamp  grew  blacker  and  gloomier ;  the  green, 
dead  water  of  the  bayou  changed  to  a  slaty  gray ;  and 
the  snags  and  logs  just  outside  the  line  of  reeds  looked 
like  the  ghosts  of  snags  and  logs  in  the  shadows  of  the 
tall  trees. 

"  I  sat  there  and  sat  there,  I  don't  know  how  long, 
only  that  I  had  begun  to  feel  surprised  that  the  boys 
did  not  come  in,  and  that  I  heard  nothing  of  them. 

"  Suddenly  there  broke  on  the  wind  that  was  blow- 
ing gently  from  the  west,  a  long,  deep  howl,  like  the 
blowing  of  an  immense  brass  horn. 

"I  knew  that  voice.  It  was  Brian's,  and  by  it  I 
judged  that  the  dog  was  not  "a  half  mile  away.  It 
meant  game,  and  big  game,  too;  for  Brian  would  never 
lay  himself  out  like  that  for  anything  smaller  than  a 
bear  or  a  '  painter.' 

"  I  listened  a  minute,  excited,  I  assure  you,  and  then 
Brian  broke  out  with  his  fog-horn  bay  again,  and  Kig 
rung  in  with  a  chorus.     I  waited  only  long  enough  to 


122  HUNTING   STORIES. 

locate  the  sound  over  my  side  of  the  bayou,  then  I 
rushed  into  the  cabin,  snatched  down  a  rifle  and  bullet- 
pouch,  and  bounded  off  the  boat  upon  the  point. 

"  I  had  no  doubt  that  the  dogs  had  treed  a  bear,  and 
of  course  I  was  eager  to  outdo  the  boys,  who  might  be 
nearer  the  hounds  than  I  was.  I  knew  they  could  not 
be  very  near,  for  Brian  would  only  have  exercised  his 
lungs  in  that  powerful  style  to  bring  somebody  from  a 
distance. 

"  Well,  away  I  went,  crashing  through  brush,  briars 
and  brake  like  a  mad  fellow,  till  in  about  a  quarter  of  a 
mile  I  came  to  an  arm  of  the  bayou  that  stretched  out 
as  far  as  I  could  see  into  the  thick  woods. 

"  It  wasn't  very  wide,  and  the  water  only  stood  in 
little  pools ;  but  I  knew  better  than  to  venture  upon  the 
slimy  surface  of  that  black,  oozy  mud.  It  was  as  mach 
as  life  was  worth,  and  more  dangerous  than  the  deep- 
est, snaggiest  part  of  the  main  branch. 

"  So  I  turned  and  pushed  my  way  up  the  bank  in  the 
hope  of  finding  a  crossing,  or  the  end.  All  this  time 
the  loud  baying  of  the  hounds  was  stimulating  my 
ears.  Scrambling  on,  I  presently  came  to  an  old  dry 
elm,  leaning  out  over  the  mud,  its  top  resting  on 
several  stout  limbs,  driven,  in  its  fall,  into  the  bank,  on 
the  other  side.  It  was  a  safe  and  easy  crossing,  but  I 
had  lost  my  wits  and  my  breath  in  my  excited  running, 
and  I  rushed  out  upon  it  without  a  bit  of  caution, 
trusting  to  the  sureness  of  my  legs. 

"About  midway,  the  rotton  bark  cleaved  off  under 
my  feet,  and  I  went  over  and  down  like  a  plummet 
into  the  mud  and  slime.  So  quickly  did  I  fall,  that  I 
did  not  touch  the  log  with  my  hands,  yet  I  alighted  on 


HUNTING   STOEIE8.  123 

my  feet !  alighted  on  them  and  went  up  to  my  thighs 
in  a  thick  mud  pudding  at  the  very  first  plunge. 

"  Soared !  I  reckon  I  was.  I  tried  to  jerk  my  legs 
out,  but  I  couldn't  move  them.     There  I  stuck  tight. 

"  I  held  my  breath  a  minute  and  kept  quiet.  Yes,  1 
was  sinking  !  I  could  feel  the  downward  movement, 
slow,  but  sure. 

"  Then  I  screamed  for  help.  As  scared  a  lot  of  yells, 
I  reckon,  as  ever  came  from  a  human  throat.  When 
their  echoes  died  away  I  listened.  The  dogs  had 
stopped  howling ;  there  was  no  other  answer. 

"  The  bank  opposite  was  hardly  twenty  feet  away, 
so  near  had  I  come  to  crossing,  but  there  was  nothing 
within  reach  that  I  could  lay  hold  of.  I  held  to  the 
rifle,  and  laid  that  along  the  top  of  the  mud  and  bore 
some  of  my  weight  on  it  with  my  hands  ;  but  notwith- 
standing this,  I  was  slowly  sinking.  I  screamed  again, 
at  the  top  of  my  lungs. 

"  I  tell  you,  gentlemen,  it's  a  horrible  feeling,  that 
slow  settling  down  into  a  frightful  bog  that's  sure  to 
be  your  grave,  if  help  is  not  secured.  I  wish  I  could 
tell  you  half  the  thoughts  and  sensations  I  had  while 
settling  into  the  bottomless  depths  of  that  slimy  mire. 
But  I  couldn't  do  it ;  I  won't  try. 

"  I  screeched  again,  like  a  madman,  and  then  I  sud- 
denly heard  a  crackling  in  the  brake  and  the  tramp  of 
some  animal  that  proved,  almost  as  quick  as  I  heard  it, 
to  be  Brian. 

"  The  big  hound  broke  from  the  cane-brake  close  at 
hand,  and  came  bouncing  upon  the  low  bank  in  front  of 
me,  where  he  halted  with  an  anxious  whine,  and  a 
pricking  up  of  his  ears,  as  much  as  to  say  : 

"  '  "Well,  you're  in  a  fine  mess,  aren't  ye?" 


m 


HUNTING  ST0B1ES. 


'Can't  you  bring  me  that  long  limb,  there?  "—Page  135. 


HUNTING  STORIES.  125 

"'Brian,  old  fellow/  said  I, '  I'm  gone  up,  sure.'  I 
should  have  said  '  gone  down,'  but  that  was  no  time  to 
make  a  choice  of  words.  '  Can't  you  bring  me  that  long 
limb,  there  on  the  bank,  old  boy  ? '  I  asked,  pointing 
to  a  broken  branch  of  elm  that  lay  by  him. 

"  Now,  I  believe  I  asked  that  just  to  make  believe 
he  was  human  and  could  understand,  and  that  I  was 
going  to  get  help  ;  but  the  hound  looked  at  the  stick, 
then  at  me  again  curiously,  and  whined  pitifully. 

"  I  repeated  the  words  and  then  pointing  several 
times  and — will  you  believe  it  ?  Whether  you  do  or 
not,  it  is  true — that  dog  stepped  back,  grabbed  that 
pole  near  the  middle,  balanced  it  an  instant,  then  made 
one  mighty  leap  off  the  bank  toward  me.  Yes  ;  and 
before  he  had  sunk  too  deep  for  his  strength,  he  made 
another  plunge  and  reached  me  with  the  branch. 

"  It  was  a  pole,  big  as  my  arm  in  the  middle,  and 
several  feet  in  length.  There  were  some  smaller  limbs 
branching  out  of  it ;  and  only  a  powerful  hound,  like 
Brian,  could  have  lifted  and  jumped  with  it. 

"  As  you  may  reckon,  I  seized  that  stick  in  a  hurry, 
got  it  crosswise  in  front  of  me,  laid  the  gun  crosswise 
of  that,  and  then  leaned  over,  bearing  all  the  weight  I 
could  upon  them.  That  eased  up  the  settling  business, 
for  a  time,  and  I  kept  myself  buoyed  up  by  the  gradual 
sinking  of  the  limb,  which,  owing  to  its  surface  and 
branches,  went  down  slowly.  - 

"  As  for  Brian,  he  had  wheeled  about  and  splashed 
out  of  the  mud  at  a  fine  rate,  spattering  me  all  over 
with  the  batter  that  ilew  from  his  feet.  Then  that 
noble  old  brute  got  up  on  the  bank  and  set  up  such  a 
Id-yi-ing  as  I  never  heard  before,  or  since.  I  tried  to 
make  him  understand  that  I  wanted  another  stick  \  but 


126  HUNTING   STOKIES. 

he  either  thought  he  had  done  enough  in  that  line,  or 
didn't  propose  to  trust  his  legs  in  the  mire  again ;  for 
he  only  howled  the  louder. 

"After  a  while  Nig  came  and  joined  in  with  his 
howls ;  and  altogether,  with  my  halloos,  we  must  have 
made  the  woods  hideous. 

"  Bless  those  dogs !  they  knew  I  was  in  a  predicament, 
as  well  as  human  beings  could  have  known.  Brian 
had  started  at  the  first  frightened  yell  which  he  heard 
from  me ;  and  at  last  K"ig  had  left  the — we  never  knew 
what  'twas — and  came  too. 

"  I  was  still  in  a  dangerous  condition,  settling  a  little 
m  spite  of  the  pole,  and  was  beginning  to  despair  of 
ever  getting  more  help.  As  much  as  an  hour  had 
passed,  when  a  cracking  of  cane  begun  to  be  heard  and 
I  knew  that  somebody  was  coming.  The  dogs  stopped 
yelping  and  whined ;  then  old  Gub  came  in  sight  in 
the  moonlight  on  the  opposite  bank.  Nothing  but 
calamity  could  have  brought  him  in  from  a  'possum- 
hunt  before  midnight. 

"  *  Wha5  wha's  de  mattuh,  V  wha'  is  yo',  mass'r  ? ' 
he  called  out. 

"  *  Here/  said  I, '  in  the  mud.  Gross  over  on  that 
tree  and  help  me  out.  I'm  sinking  and  half -froze  in  the 
cold  slime.     Careful,  now,  or  you'll  be  in  too? ' 

"'Lawd  ob  musseh,  Marse  Pink !  how'd  yo'  go  'n' 
git  in  dah  f  Yo'  poah  chile,  peah's  like  yo  deffui  mis- 
fa  wtnit  ! ' 

"  But  without  waiting  for  a  reply  the  old  negro 
stepped  out  on  the  log  and  hurried  across.  To  make  a 
long  story  short,  the  old  fellow  was  mighty  handy  at 
whatever  he  undertook,  fell  at  work  like  a  beaver  and 
soon  had  a  bridge  of  dry  logs  and  sticks  built  over  the 


HUNTING   STORIES.  127 

muddy  hole  and  a  staging  of  wood  laid  all  about 
me.  Then  by  digging  and  wrenching,  twisting  and 
working  we  accomplished  the  feat  of  unearthing  my 
legs  and  bringing  me  safe  to  dry  land. 

"I  went  back  to  the  corbeau  with  old  Gub,  almost 
prostrated  from  the  reaction  from  my  fright,  and  in  a 
sorry  enough  plight.  But  a  change  of  clothes,  a  wash, 
a  good  fire  and  hot  coffee  soon  set  me  to  rights  again. 

"  As  for  Willett  and  Chet,  they  had  got  lost  in  the . 
bayou  and  didn't  find  their  way  in  till  after  midnight. 

"  That  dog  Brian  was  surely  the  most  knowing  hunter 
I  ever  saw.  Dogs  of  that  breed  usually  are  fit  for 
trailing  and  do  not  know  much  else ;  but  you  could 
teach  Brian  anything.  He  was  only  two  years  and  a 
half  old  when  that  thing  happened.  We  kept  him  for 
eight  years  after  that,  and  I  could  tell  of  a  hundred 
instances  where  he  proved  himself  just  as  intelligent  as 
when  he  saved  me  from  a  muddy  grave ;  for  I  certainly 
should  have  gone  down  but  for  him." 


XIV. 

CHAS1D. 

Duck-hunting  is  not  usually  considered  a  dangerous 
sport,  provided  one  is  careful  and  knows  how  to  handle 
a  gun ;  but  at  least  one  duck-hunt  of  my  boyhood  came 
near  causing  my  death. 

My  parents,  with  several  other  families,  were  at  that 
time  living  upon  the  extreme  frontier  of  western  Iowa, 
in  a  little  settlement  not  yet  laid  down  on  the  maps. 

The  country  for  miles  around  us,  with  the  exception 
of  small  groves  of  timber  which  skirted  the  nearest 
stream,  was  an  open  prairie,  covered  with  thick,  coarse 
grass,  which  even  on  the  very  highest  and  dryest  ridges 
would  reach  to  a  man's  knee. 

Until  the  region  became  thickly  settled,  prairie  fires 
raged  with  each  recurring  autumn;  and  when  there 
were  high  winds  the  flames  sometimes  reached  across 
the  country  with  the  speed  of  an  antelope. 

The  only  protection  we  had  from  these  fires  was  the 
cultivated  fields  that  surrounded  the  houses ;  and  even 
about  these  a  wide  strip  had  to  be  freshly  ploughed 
each  fall  before  the  grass  dried,  for  the  fire-fiend,  when 
once  started,  with  a  dry  wind  to  urge  it  on,  would  run 
accross  the  stubble  and  the  ripe  corn-fields  with  scarcely 
retarded  velocity. 

Wild  game,  of  many  varieties,  was  then  very  abun- 
dant thereabouts ;  and  during  the  second  autumn  after 
our  arrival,  geese  and  ducks  were  so  plentiful  that 
nearly  every  man  and  every  boy  large  enough  to  carry 
a  gun  spent  his  whole  time  during  the  month  of  October 

128 


HUNTING    STORIES.  129 

in  hunting  these  birds,  for  their  feathers  were  needed 
for  beds  and  pillows,  and  could  always  be  sold  for 
cash  when  there  were  any  to  spare. 

The  nearest  railroad  station  was  eighty  miles  away, 
but  when  our  geese  feathers  were  delivered  there  they 
could  be  sold  for  one  dollar  a  pound.  Furthermore, 
the  breasts  of  these  birds,  sliced  clean  from  the  bones 
and  dried,  furnished  excellent  meat  for  months  to 
come,  and  they  also  could  be  sold  for  a  good  price  at 
the  station. 

There  were  three  boys  in  the  settlement — Mort  Hal- 
leck,  Pierre  Lanfrey,  the  son  of  a  French  Canadian 
whose  place  joined  my  father's,  and  I. 

One  bright  morning  about  the  last  of  October,  we 
set  out  together  for  a  trip  up  the  river.  It  was  a  calm 
day,  and  not  a  very  good  time  to  shoot  wild  geese  and 
ducks  had  they  been  less  plentiful  than  they  were  that 
season. 

Early  in  the  day  we  had  noticed  that  the  horizon 
away  up  the  river  to  the  northwest  had  a  hazy,  smoky 
appearance. 

"  I'll  bet  there's  a  big  old  fire  over  on  the  Sioux," 
said  Mort,  as  we  trudged  along. 

"  'Twon't  hurt  us  any,"  said  Pierre ;  "  'cause  there's 
hardly  any  wind  blowing,  and  what  little  there  is 
comes  from  the  south." 

So  we  felt  no  uneasiness,  except  that  we  feared  the 
fire  might  later  on  sweep  over  our  region  when  the 
wind  changed,  and  thus  put  an  end  to  our  hunting. 
For  where  the  prairie  is  burned  black  and  the  wild  rice 
and  seeds  are  consumed  about  the  edges  of  the  sloughs 
and  streams,  water-fowl  soon  take  leave  for  better 
feeding  grounds. 


130  HUNTING  STORIES. 

We  had  good  luck  during  that  forenoon,  shooting  three 
wild  geese  and  thirteen  large  mallard  ducks.  And  after 
eating  our  dinner  in  a  small  grove,  we  decided  to  hang 
up  our  game  on  the  branches  of  a  scrub-oak,  and  push 
on  two  or  three  miles  further,  to  a  large  slough  which 
we  knew  to  be  frequented  by  water- fowl  of  all  kinds. 
Even  if  we  should  shoot  more  than  we  could  carry 
home,  the  weather  was  cool,  and  the  game  would  keep, 
and  we  could  bring  a  horse  the  next  day  to  carry  them 
home,  as  we  had  often  done  before. 

Pierre  made  a  scare-crow  of  his  coat,  which  had 
become  a  burden  to  him,  as  he  wore  it  over  a  hunting- 
jacket,  and  placed  it  in  the  branches  of  the  tree,  to 
frighten  away  eagles  and  hawks. 

We  soon  traversed  the  distance  to  the  slough,  and 
found  it,  as  we  had  hoped,  alive  with  geese  and  ducks. 
Quite  a  breeze  had  sprung  up  from  the  south,  and  the 
birds  were  constantly  flying  in  at  one  end  and  out  at 
the  other. 

Mort  and  I  stationed  ourselves  in  the  tall  grass  at  the 
south  end  and  Pierre  we&t  round  to  the  northern  quar- 
ter. We  were  soon  blazing  away  as  fast  as  we  could 
load,  taking  the  birds  on  the  wing  as  they  passed  over 
our  heads. 

The  foolish  birds  circled  about,  loath  to  leave  the 
rich  rice-patches  which  la^  along  the  edges  of  the 
slough.  Some,  indeed,  would  take  fright  and  bear  off 
for  other  haunts,  but  others  were  constantly  coming 
towards  us,  and  our  guns  soon  became  heated  from 
rapid  firing. 

Toward  night  the  wind  suddenly  veered  round  to 
the  northwest  asd  blew  a  gale— not  an  infrequent 
occurrence  in  this  country,  after  a  calm  autumn  or 


HUNTING  STORIES.  131 

spring  morning.  We  had  forgotten  all  about  the  fire, 
—about  everything,  in  fact,  but  our  all-absorbing  sport. 

Mort  and  myself  had  gathered  around  us  a  stack  of 
game,  more  than  we  had  ever  bagged  before  at  one 
time.  Pierre's  gun  had  also  been  busy ;  and  we  were 
loading  up  for  our  farewell  shots,  just  after  sunset, 
when  Mort  suddenly  sprang  to  his  feet. 

"  Look  up  yonder,  Frank !  Goodness,  we  must  get  out 
of  this ! "  he  exclaimed. 

A  glance  to  the  northward  disclosed  the  cause  of  his 
alarm.  A  great  cloud  of  smoke  stretched  across  the 
horizon  and  seemed  rolling  down  upon  us  like  a  thun- 
der gust.  At  the  same  time  a  dull  but  ominous  roar 
was  audible ;  and  we  noticed  that  cinders,  borne  by  the 
strong  wind,  were  flitting  by.  Pierre  had  taken  alarm 
also,  and  now  came  bounding  through  the  grass  toward 
ns. 

How  suddenly  it  had  all  come  on  I  The  air  overhead 
was  even  now  clouded  with  smoke;  and  it  began  rap- 
idly to  grow  dark.  For  a  moment  we  stood,  hardly 
knowing  which  way  to  turn. 

"Fling  yer  game  inter  the  water,"  shouted  Pierre, 
as  he  neared  us.  "'The  fire  won't  burn  it  there.  We've 
got  to  make  for  the  river  lively." 

Mort  and  I  at  once  began  pitching  geese  and  ducks 
into  the  water. 

"  Don't  you  s*pose  we  can  run  into  the  slough  and 
stand  it  % "  I  queried. 

"  Wo ! n  said  Pierre.  "  We've  got  to  get  behind  the 
river-bank.  Don't  ye  see  the  fire  will  leap  across 
through  them  reeds  and  rushes?  We'd  be  roasted.  The 
sinoke'd  smother  us !  Jerk  off  yer  boots  an'  fling  'em 
fc&r  the  water,  and  hurry ! "  he  cried. 


132  HUNTING  STOBIM. 

He  was  barefooted  himself,  and  we  quickly  followed 
his  advice.  Pierre  had  been  brought  up  on  the  frontier 
prairies,  and  we  always  found  it  safe  to  follow  his 
lead. 

"  It's  a  mile  to  the  river,"  said  he,  "  an*  the  fire  ain't 
more'n  two  miles  away.  /  Eeady  now !  Skedaddle ! 
But  hang  to  yer  guns  if  you  can." 

So  accustomed  were  we  to  the  weight  of  our  musket- 
guns,  that  we  ran  almost  equally  well  with  them  in 
our  hands.  Away  we  sped.  But  the  smoke  was  driv- 
ing over  us  and  filled  our  heaving  lungs  at  each  quick 
breath  with  a  smarting,  suffocating  sensation.  To  the 
west  and  far  up  overhead  a  wild,  angry  glare  was 
mounting — alternately  glowing  and  darkening  in  the 
twilight. 

The  roar  grew  louder. 

"Hurry!  Hurry!  ou  noo  song  perdu!"  gasped 
Pierre.    "  The  fire's  on  both  sides  the  river."  ' 

Hurry  we  did.  But  the  awful  roar  in  our  rear  grew 
in  volume  each  instant.  An  occasional  shift  of  the 
wind  wheeling  aside  the  clouds  of  smoke  disclosed  a 
long,  unbroken  line  of  red  "  leapers  "  rushing  on  with 
the  speed  of  wild  buffaloes. 

It  was  indeed  a  race  for  life.  Every  moment  it  grew 
hotter.  The  tall,  dry  grass  that  fed  the  flames  served 
but  to  tangle  and  trip  our  feet. 

"Kun!  Leg  it!"  shrieked  Pierre.  "We  haven't  a 
second  to  spare." 

The  dense  smoke  hid  everything,  but  we  knew  we 
were  nearing  the  stream,  from  the  small  patches  of  wil- 
low which  we  began  to  pass  through.  The  crackle  of 
the  fire  was  now  getting  terribly  loud.  The  heat 
became  almost  too  intense  to  bear.    Sweat  ran  down 


mtNTINO  STORIES.  138 

our  limbs,  while  our  faces  felt  scorched.  There  seemed 
to  be  not  a  breath  of  air.  -^ 

"  Oh,  I'm  smothering,"  gasped  Mort. 

"No,  yer  haint!"  yelled  Pierre.     "Keep  after  me, 

boys,  02*  we'll " He  never  finished  that  sentence, 

for  at  that  instant  all  three  of  us  went  headlong  over 
the  river-bank— twenty  or  thirty  feet — down  to  the 
water's  edge.  Mort  indeed  fell  into  the  water,  gun 
and  all,  and  we  hauled  him  out,  sputtering. 

" Dis  way,"  cried  Pierre.  "Don't stop  here."  And 
we  hurried  along  the  edge  of  the  steep  bank  down  to 
where  the  bluff  was  higher  and  more  abrupt,  and 
almost  jutted  out  into  the  water  into  which  we  waded 
waist  deep. 

"Bong!"  ejaculated  our  leader.  "Now  off  with 
your  hats  and  souse  'em  in  the  water,  then  clap  'em 
over  your  faces  and  keep  under  the  bank." 

"We  had  barely  time  to  do  it,  when,  with  a  tremen- 
dous crackling  and  roaring  and  a  hissing,  seething 
noise,  accompanied  by  a  sensation  of  choking  and  of 
fierce,  smarting  heat  about  our  heads  and  shoulders, 
the  fiery  hurricane  swept  over  the  bank  above  us. 

For  a  few  moments  the  air  seemed  full  of  flame — 
long  tongues  shooting  out  and  playing  over  the  river 
as  if  to  reach  to  the  farther  bank.  Then,  as  when  a 
bubble  bursts,  it  all  went  out  at  once. 

A  cool  draft  of  air  rushed  in.  The  blaze  had  passed. 
Nothing  but  smoke  was  left  behind,  with  here  and 
there  a  bit  of  burning  twig. 

"'Twas  a  hard  scratch  for  usl"  exclaimed  Pierre, 
who  in  moments  of  excitement  was  apt  to  mingle  Can- 
adian French  and  backwoods  English  in  about  equal 


134:  HUNTING   STORIES. 

measure.  "  Sapriste  !  But  I  think  we  perdu  sure  one 
spell." 

It  was  such  a  narrow  escape  as  comes  to  few  in  the 
whole  course  of  a  lifetime. 

After  an  hour  or  so  we  were  able  to  cross  the  burnt 
prairie,  and  during  the  evening  made  our  way  home, 
where  we  found  there  had  been  no  little  anxiety  con- 
cerning us,  the  flames  having  been  plainly  seen  sweep- 
ing along  to  the  northwest  of  the  settlement. 

Next  day  we  recovered  a  part  of  our  geese  and 
ducks  from  out  of  the  slough ;  but  Pierre's  coat  and  the 
birds  we  had  hung  up  in  the  oak  had  been  burned  to 
cinders. 


4  BAN01B0U8  RESEMBLANCE. 

A  resemblance  between  two  persons  so  strong  asfb 
give  rise  to  a  prolonged  case  of  mistaken  identity  is 
rarely  met  with  outside  the  pages  of  fiction.  Of  his 
own  personal  knowledge  the  writer  can  speak  of  one 
instance  where,  for  a  short  time,  such  a  resemblance 
seemed  to  baffle  the  inquisitive  eyes  of  old  acquaintances. 

It  happened  not  long  ago  to  a  friend  of  mine,  a  civil 
engineer  in  the  employment  of  a  great  railway  com- 
pany, to  be  most  awkwardly  mistaken  for  a  fugitive 
from  the  primitive  justice  of  a  mountain  district  in 
Arkansas,  His  adventure  was  exciting  and  full  of  dan- 
ger, and  seems  worth  relating. 

Conrad  Hurling,  though  a  young  man,  is  one  of  the 
most  efficient  engineers  in  the  employ  of  the  M.  R.  & 
P.  Eailway  Company.  He  belongs  to  the  "  Locating 
Corps,"  and  his  work  is  in  "preliminary"  and  "locat- 
ing surveys."  Last  winter  he  was  sent  alone  upon  an 
important  mission  which  required  a  journey  through 
the  State  of  Arkansas,  a  journey  not  by  rail  in  a  Pull- 
man sleeper,  but  on  horseback  over  three  hundred  miles 
of  mountainous  and  swampy  country,  much  of  it  little 
better  than  a  wilderness. 

The  Missouri,  Rio  Grande  &  Pacific  directors,  jeal- 
ous of  a  competing  line  which  was  building  an  extension 
pointing  in  that  direction,  determined  to  forestall  it  in 
occupying  Arkansas  territory,  and  Hurling  was  sent 
oul  to  look  over  the  ground  in  advance  of  a  preliminary 
survey.    In  fact,  he  was  to  make  a  sort  of  "  prelimi- 


136  HUNTING   STORIES. 

nary"  by  the  aid  of  his  eyes,  his  powers  of  gathering 
information  from  inhabitants,  a  sectional  map  of  the 
State,  and  certain  charts  which  he  carried  upon  which 
to  trace  the  route  and  all  prominent  landmarks  and 
water-courses. 

It  was  about  the  first  of  December  that  he  set  out 
from  the  mountain  village  of  Ozo,  where  he  had  pur- 
chased a  horse  and  saddle  for  the  journey.  He  had 
attired  himself  in  a  rough  corduroy  suit,  a  broad- 
brimmed  white  hat,  a  pair  of  high-topped  hunting  boots. 
He  carried  a  revolver  in  a  pocket  of  his  saddle-bags, 
which  also  contained  his  maps  and  papers,  with  room 
for  a  noon  lunch. 

The  first  day's  travel  led  him  into  a  wild  and  pic- 
turesque region  of  the  Ozarks,  a  rough  country  of 
rocky  peaks  and  ridges  of  deep  ravines  and  yawning 
gulches,  the  home  of  not  a  few  suspicious  moonshiners, 
and,  if  report  were  trustworthy,  of  some  other  charac- 
ters still  more  unpleasant  to  meet. 

However,  the  young  engineer  was  well  on  his  guard, 
he  knew  the  characteristics  of  the  inhabitants  generally, 
and  was  usually  possessed  of  the  lucky  faculty  of  mak- 
ing himself  "  at  home  with  everybody;"  in  other  words, 
of  winning  the  stranger's  confidence. 

The  weather  was  fine,  and  for  several  days  the 
traveler  found  his  leisurely  journey  pleasant  and  full  of 
interest.  The  few  inhabitants  with  whom  he  met  and 
conversed  on  the  road,  or  at  occasional  cabins  where 
he  put  up  for  the  night  or  stopped  for  a  meal,  seemed 
well  disposed,  and  generally  gave  him  such  informa- 
tion as  they  had  about  the  route  he  proposed  to  take. 

Some  of  the  more  intelligent  of  them  were  very 
hospitable   upon  learning    his    errand,  and   evinced 


HUNTING   STORIES.  137 

much  enthusiasm  at  the  prospect  of  a  "  shore  'nough 
railroad  "  and  "  cyars  "  running  past  their  very  doors. 

"  I  knowed  I'd  see  a  engine  a-humpin'  up  this  valley 
some  o'  these  yere  days,"  said  one  shrewd  old  farmer, 
"  an  that  is  jus'  the  reason  why  I  tuck  'n '  sot  myself 
en  my  f  am'ly  down  on  this  yere  piece  o'  Ian'  w'at  I  got 
pa'chelly  fenced,  en  ben  a  livin'  on  hit  ever  sence  the 
wan.  Hit  air  boun'  ter  be  a  valleyble  piece  o'  prop'ty, 
hit  air. 

Conrad  passed  an  enjoyable  evening  at  the  old  man's 
cabin,  where  a  large  family  of  overgrown  youths  of 
both  sexes  sat  with  them  about  the  fire-place  conversing, 
after  the  first  shyness  had  worn  off,  in  their  uncouth, 
roundabout  dialect. 

For  several  days  he  pursued  the  route  marked  out 
for  him  through  the  valleys  of  deep  water-courses, 
through  mountain  passes  and  over  plateaus,  or 
"  bench  lands,"  and  without  adventure  of  an  unpleas- 
ant sort.  Occasionally  he  met  with  surly  or  suspi- 
cious mountaineers,  who  eyed  him  askant,  and  spoke  to 
him  guardedly  or  not  at  all. 

But  on  the  sixth  morning,  at  a  creek  "  crossing,"  he 
met  upon  the  bank  of  the  stream  a  lank,  leather-faced 
man,  in  coon-skin  cap  and  leather  leggins,  bearing  a 
long  rifle  upon  his  shoulder,  with  a  half-dozen  or  more 
squirrels  strung  upon  the  barrel,  and  the  lean  hunter 
stood,  as  he  rode  up,  gaping  at  him  in  undisguised 
amazement. 

Somewhat  surprised  at  the  hunter's  stare,  in  which 
there  seemed  such  extraordinary  interest,  Hurling  drew 
rein  and  saluted  the  gazer. 

"  How  d'ye  do  ? "  said  he,  pleasantly. 

"Tol'ble,"  answered  the  hunter,  with  an  unpleasant 


138  HUNTING   STORIES. 

grin.  "  How  air  you-uns  ? "  and  Conrad  noted  a  look 
of  cunning  upon  the  leathery  face. 

"  Well,"  said  the  engineer, "  I'm  getting  on  all  right, 
but  I'll  be  much  obliged  to  you  if  you'll  put  me  on  the 
right  trail  on  the  other  side  of  the  creek  there.  I  see 
the  road  forks,  and  I  want  to  go  through  Horrigan's 
Gap." 

The  hunter's  grin  became  enormous  as  Oon  finished. 

"Waal,  Dave,"  said  he,  drawlingly,  "I  al'ays 
knowed  ye  were  right  peart  in  yer  makin's-up,  but  ye 
cain't  projeck  ole  Jake  outen  the  youst  uv  'is  eyes.  I 
reckon  ye  done  knowed  which  road  air  the  best  fer  ye 
ter  take  afore  ye  corned  nigh  hyar." 

"  So  you  take  me  for  somebody  who's  been  here 
before,  eh?"  said  Hurling-  "Well,  my  good  man, 
you're  off  in  the  matter  of  eyesight  for  once  in  your 
life.  I've  never  been  here  before,  and  am  very  certain 
I  never  saw  your  face." 

The  old  man  grunted  half-angrily :  "  Don't  ye  be 
lettin'  on  ter  be  a  plumb  fool,  Dave !  Ye  nachelly 
cain't  'possum  noways  with  me.  I  done  knowed  ye 
comin'  away  up  the  rise  yander." 

This  was  rather  exasperating,  but  the  stranger  bore 
it  with  outward  patience,  at  least,  and  again  denying 
his  identity  with  that  of  "  Dave,"  whoever  the  individ- 
ual might  be,  he  dismounted,  opened  his  saddle-bags, 
took  out  his  maps  and  explained  the  purpose  of  „his 
errand  through  the  country. 

The  old  man  looked  and  listened,  still  incredulous. 

"  Ye  don't  talk  exactly  like  Dave,  en  ye  hev  riz  a 
baard,"  was  the  only  admission  the  engineer  could  get 
out  of  him.  He  refused,  in  fact,  to  talk,  evidently 
believing  that  "  Dave  "  was  trying  to  play  a  trick  on 


HUN'fiCN'G   STORIES. 


139 


him,  and  after  pointing  out — rather  reluctantly— the 
road  to  Kerrigan's  Gap,  the  old  hunter  started  off, 
shaking  his  head. 
Hurling  was  not  a  little  disturbed  by  this  incident. 


1  &o  old  man  looked  and  listened,  still  Incredulous. —Page  138. 

for  he  did  not  know  what  unpleasant  consequences 
might  arise  if  other  mountaineers,  acquainted  with  the 
mysterious  "  Dave/'  should  also  mistake  him  for  this 
person,  who,  he  doubted  not  from  the  old  hunter's 
manner,  had  left  the  region  in  bad  odor  with  some  of 


140  HUNTING  STOKIES. 

its  inhabitants.  How  well  founded  this  surmise  and  his 
fears  were,  he  discovered  soon  enough. 

The  road  to  Horrigan's  Gap  led  along  the  bank  of  a 
deep  run,  with  here  and  there  a  dark  pool  of  water 
lying  in  a  depression  of  the  bed.  At  some  distance 
from  the  ford,  while  taking  observations  along  the 
road,  he  met  two  mountaineers  on  horseback,  and 
almost  held  his  breath  as  they  rode  down  toward  him  ; 
but  though  they  gave  him  curious  and  not  very  friendly 
looks,  and  responded  rather  surlily  to  his  salutation,  they 
evidently  did  not  recognize  in  him  a  likeness  to  any 
one  they  had  known,  and  this  fact  gave  him  no  little 
relief  as  they  rode  past.  He  began  now  to  fancy  that 
perhaps  the  old  hunter  might  not  be  quite  right  in  his 
mind. 

A  little  farther  on,  however,  this  illusion  was  dis- 
pelled. At  a  turn  of  the  road  a  boy  had  ridden  one 
horse  and  led  another  to  water  at  one  of  the  pools  at 
the  bottom  of  the  run.  Conrad  rode  to  the  edge  of  the 
bank,  and  called  to  the  lad,  who  was  leaning  lazily  over 
his  horse's  wether  while  the  animal  drank. 

The  young  fellow  looked  up  with  interest  and  sur- 
prise at  being  thus  accosted  unawares ;  he  looked,  then 
stared,. as  the  hunter  had,  in  open-mouthed  amazement, 
then  shouted,  "  Dave  Kennedy  /"  and  giving  his  horse's 
halter  a  jerk  and  letting  go  the  other,  turned  his  riding 
animal  about  and  fled  at  a  gallop,  digging  his  heels  into 
its  ribs  and  flopping  his  elbows  in  the  wildest  excite- 
ment. 

Here  was  more  mystery,  and  keen  cause,  also,  for 
alarm. 

His  likeness  to  "  Dave  "  could  no  longer  be  doubted, 
and  as  to  the  reputation  of  this  individual,  he  con' 


HUNTING  STORIES.  141 

eluded  it  must  be  that  of  a  desperate  character  of 
some  sort.  The  old  hunter  had  been  surprised  and 
suspicious,  and  the  boy  was  evidently  frightened  half 
out  of  his  wits.  The  engineer  rode  on  with  many 
misgivings,  and  yet  he  was  not  prepared  for  what  fol- ' 
lowed. 

He  had  ridden  rather  more  tnan  a  mile  from  the 
spot  where  the  boy  had  been  encountered,  and  was 
going  slowly  for  the  purpose  of  careful  observation, 
when  he  heard  a  distant  but  fierce  and  rattling  clatter 
of  horses'  hoofs. 

They  were  behind  him,  horsemen,  who  had  evidently 
just  struck  the  road. 

Hurling's  fears  of  trouble  were  instantly  confirmed ; 
he  felt  an  immediate  conviction  that  the  riders  whose 
horses'  feet  clattered  louder  with  each  passing  second 
were  after  him,  and  that  the  boy  at  the  pool  had  given 
the  alarm.  He  halted,  got  off  his  horse,  took  his 
revolver  from  the  saddle-bags  and  stuck  it  in  his  coat- 
pocket,  then  waited,  calmly  as  he  could,  their  coming, 
determined  to  have  the  matter  of  his  identity  estab- 
lished if  possible;  at  any  rate,  to  put  on  a  bold  face  and 
stand  his  ground. 

He  had  reached  very  nearly  the  head  of  the  run,  and 
before  him  stretched  a  wide,  gently  inclining  valley 
which  he  knew  from  previous  description  to  be  Horri- 
gan's  Gap.  There  were  high  mountains  on  either  hand 
and  much  timber  on  their  sides.  The  valley  was  bare 
of  woods  and  some  of  it  cultivated;  he  could  dis- 
tinguish several  cabins  and  small  fields  from  where  he 
stood,  and  grouped  against  the  clear  blue  horizon  at 
the  highest  elevation  of  the  gap,  several  miles  distant, 


142  HUNTING   STORIES. 

were  some  buildings  which  no  doubt  made  up  the  vil- 
lage of  Horrigan. 

Nearer  and  nearer  rattled  the  riders  and  soon  they 
burst  into  view  around  a  point  several  hundred  yards 
below. 

There  were  five  of  them,  and  upon  coming  within 
sight  of  him  they  reined  up  and  came  to  a  halt ;  they 
sat  gazing  at  him  for  a  moment,  and  then  seemed  to 
be  holding  a  consultation. 

Hurling  waited  uneasily.  Were  they  afraid  of  him, 
he  wondered,  and  had  they  started  out  with  the  intention 
to  capture  or  to  kill  him  ?  Surely,  he  thought,  they 
would  give  him  a  chance  to  prove  himself — if  only  they 
would  come  within  speaking  distance. 

But  while  he  was  thus  questioning  within  himself 
one  of  the  men  dismounted,  and  Conrad  saw  that  he 
had  a  gun  in  his  hands. 

The  fellow  stepped  out  a  few  paces  to  one  side,  and 
deliberately  took  aim  at  him.  At  this  alarming  demon- 
stration the  engineer  sprang  behind  his  horse ;  as  he  did 
80  the  mountaineer's  gun  cracked ;  the  ball  struck  the 
road,  falling  several  rods  short  of  the  horse,  at  which  it 
was  probably  fired  ;  it  glanced  upward  and  went  yeun- 
yeumng,  above  the  man's  head. 

He  waited  no  longer,  but  sprang  upon  his  horse  and 
sank  his  spurs  in  its  flanks,  determined  to  lead  them  a 
race  to  the  village,  where  he  hoped  to  find  shelter,  or  at 
least  protection,  until  he  could  satisfy  the  people  as  to 
his  identity. 

That  the  party  after  him  was  in  dead  earnest  was 
plain  enough,  and  that  an  attempt  to  parley  with  them 
would  only  bring  the  peril  nearer  he  felt  assured— 


HUNTING  STOKIES.  143 

therefore  he  plied  spur  and  whip,  using  an  end  of  the 
long  halter-strap  as  a  quirt. 

Hearing  no  more  shots  fired,  he  looked  back  to  see 
what  his  pursuers  were  doing.  They  were  after  him 
fast  enough,  riding  in  single  file  at  the  top  of  their 
animals,  speed,  with  a  trail  of  flying  dust  in  their  wake. 

The  poor  fellow  felt  that  his  case  was  indeed  desper- 
ate; his  unlucky  likeness  to  "Dave  Kennedy"  was 
likely  to  bring  him  to  peril  in  front,  as  it  had  upon  the 
road  behind. 

His  horse,  fortunately,  was  a  fine  roadster,  and  had 
both  speed  and  wind,  and  after  a  mile  or  so  Conrad 
noted  with  delight  that  he  was  drawing  gradually  away 
evenirom  the  foremost  of  his  pursuers,  and  that  this 
one  was  several  hundred  yards  in  advance  of  the  rest. 

If  only  they  were  all  mounted  on  such  old  farm- 
horses  as  he  had  seen  at  the  pool,  he  thought  it  would 
be  an  easy  matter  to  get  away  from  them. 

He  neared  a  small  cabin  by  the  road  and  several 
ragged  children  scuttled  in  at  the  door  in  a  great 
fright  as  he  shot  by.  A  little  farther  on,  a  small  corn- 
field lay  beside  the  road,  and  three  men,  who,  with  a 
single  horse  and  cart,  had  started  shucking  among  the 
first  rows,  turned  and  gazed  at  him  as  he  flew  past. 

He  wondered  if  they  wouldn't  get  into  the  cart  and 
take  after  him.  They  did  not ;  but  farther  on  another 
cabin  stood  on  a  slight  elevation  near  the  road,  and  as 
he  neared  it  Hurling  saw  a  man  at  one  corner  shading 
his  eyes  and  evidently  watching  both  pursued  and  pur- 
suers. 

As  he  came  clattering  up  nearly  abreast  of  the  cabin 
the  man  gave  an  excited  jump,  slapped  his  leg  with  one 


144  HUNTING  STORIES. 

hand,  and  then,  dodging  around  the  corner,  darted  in 
at  the  cabin-door. 

The  fleeing  man  went  by  like  the  wind,  but  looked 
back,  expecting  to  see  the  fellow  come  out  with  a  gun. 
He  was  not  disappointed ;  out  the  man  came  and  fired 
two  shots  in  quick  succession  after  him.  A  double- 
barreled  shot-gun  was  evidently  the  weapon  used,  for 
the  rider,  was  already  out  of  range  and  saw  several 
shots  strike  along  the  road  behind  him,  each  of  which 
knocked  up  a  little  spurt  of  dust  as  it  "hit. 

Truly  Dave's  enemies  were  numerous  ! 

The  engineer  rode  directly  along  the  rode  toward  the 
village  which  he  was  now  rapidly  nearing.  His  horse 
had  done  well,  still  kept  its  wind  and  steadily  gained  on 
those  behind. 

Luckily  there  was  no  one  at  home,  or  at  least  in 
sight,  at  the  two  or  three  cabins  which  he  had  still  to 
pass  before  entering  the  village,  and  he  rode  unan- 
nounced up  to  the  very  door  of  a  log  store  which  also 
had  a  sign  "Post-Office"  printed  upon  a  board  and 
nailed  to  one  of  the  logs. 

Hastily  hitching  his  horse  to  a  post  he  entered  the 
door,  a  plan  of  action  having  occurred  to  him  while 
riding  for  his  life. 

A  group  of  half  a  dozen  men  had  already  gathered, 
seated  upon  and  leaning  against  the  counters  of  the 
country  store. 

"Gentlemen,"  burst  out  Hurling,  "some  men  are 
after  me  on  horses  and  with  guns  determined  to  take 
my  life  because  they  fancy  I  look  like  Dave  some- 
body—" 

"  Kennedy •,  true's  you  live !  "  put  in  one  of  them ; 
"that's  what  ye  does,  mighty  like  him." 


HUNTING   STORIES.  145 

"  That's  so,"  said  several  others,  who  got  down  off 
the  counters  in  the  stir  which  followed  to  get  a  good 
look  at  the  stranger. 

"  Well,"  said  Conrad,  hurriedly,  "  whoever  Dave 
Kennedy  may  be  and  whatever  he  has  done  I  am  not 
he,  and  if  there  is  any  one  in  the  store  who  can  get 
me  a  razor,  a  piece  of  soap  and  some  water  I  can  very 
quickly  prove  what  I  say." 

"  Mebby  ye  ken,  but  I'd  swar  't  ye  war  Dave,"  said 
the  first  speaker  of  the  crowd.  "  It's  no  more'n  fa'r, 
though,  thet  ye  should  heve  a  squar'  deal.  Boys,  is  they 
ary  razor  round  hyar  't  the  feller  ken  use  ? " 

« I've  got  one,"  said  a  young,  smooth-faced  fellow 
who  was  evidently  clerk  in  the  store.  "  Come  back  this 
way,  stranger." 

Hurling  stepped  to  the  back  end  of  the  store,  was 
given  a  razor,  a  gourd  with  brush,  water  and  soap  and 
shown  a  broken  mirror  which  hung  beside  a  small  back 
window. 

A  curious  silence  reigned  in  the  room  while  he  hastily 
made  preparations  to  remove  a  luxuriant  growth  of 
beard. 

Soon  a  clatter  of  hoofs  announced  the  approach  of 
the  horsemen  in  pursuit. 

"  Hyar  they  come,"  said  one  of  the  men ;  "  it's  them 
Kirby  boys  jes'  es  I  'lowed  'twar.  I'll  go  out,  boys, 
'n'  tell  'em  how  hit  air.  O'  course  they  air  nachelly 
boun'  ter  give  the  man  a  show." 

And  he  went  out  followed  by  two  or  three  more. 
While  Con  was  industriously  scraping  away  he  heard 
them  in  earnest  conversation  with  the  fellows  who  had 
just  ridden  up.  Presently  they  all  came  tramping  into 
the  store. 


146  HUNTING  STORIES. 

Then  for  several  minutes  there  was  an  ominous 
silence. 

Conrad  finished  shaving,  wiped  his  face  on  an  old 
towel  which  hung  on  the  wall  and  then  *'  faced  the 
enemy. " 

There  were  a  dozen  slouching  fellows  in  the  room 
now,  and  nearly  all  armed  with  rifle  or  revolver. 

They  stared  hard  at  his  face,  which  had,  indeed, 
undergone  a  striking  change.  Pale  and  hollow-cheeked 
he  awaited  their  decision,, 

"  Sho ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  nearest,  "  he  don't  look 
ary  bit  more  like  Dave  Kennedy  nor  I  do.  Hit  didn't 
seem  ter  me  like  Dave  'd  git  ©udashus  'nough  ter^come 
projeckin  roun'  hyar  agin." 

"'Tain't  Dave,"  was  the  flat  admission  of  all  of 
them,  and  the  men  who  had .  followed  him  so  hotly 
looked  crestfallen  enough. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,  if  you've  no  further  business  with 
me  I'll  ride  on,"  said  Hurling.  "Much  obliged  for  the 
use  of  your  razor,  young  man,"  and  nodding  to  the 
clerk  he  walked  out  while  the  crowd  rather  shame- 
facedly made  way  for  him. 

"I  didn't  care  to  inquire  who  Dave  was  or  what  he 
had  done,"  said  my  friend.  "I  had  had  quite  enough 
of  those  fellows  and  I  wanted  them  to  know  it." 

He  received  generous  hospitality  from  most  of  the 
people  whom  he  met  on  the  long  journey  which  fol- 
lowed, and  though  he  had  many  other  adventures,  he 
was  never  in  so  much  peril  as  on  this  occasion,  when, 
as  ho  puts  it,  he  "  was  saved  by  losing  his  beard." 

THE  END. 


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